Destiny's Shadows
by Aradia17
Summary: Voldemort's second reign of terror has ended, but another period of darkness has just begun. Ancient magic has placed the fate of the wizarding world in the hands of a reluctant two, and love prevails beyond the greatest sacrifice. AU fic; H/Hr; R/OC
1. Prologue

Destiny's Shadows A/n: Okay, this is the official sequel to Destiny's Path! The title may change, though I don't think it is likely. I will notify as many as I can should I change it later on.  
  
This is just a short prologue. More is coming, that I promise.  
  
The extended summary of this story is: Voldemort has been destroyed. Lucius hungers to become more than what his master once was. All he needs is the person who destroyed Voldemort-Hermione Granger. A war is brewing between the Muggles and the wizards. Hermione is distant and unresponsive since she was sent home. Harry is the only one who can really reach her. But why can they suddenly read one another's minds, dream the same things at the same time, and get visions of one another? And what is up with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher-why does he seem so interested in Hermione?  
  
Here is a short summary of the first story for any new readers. Though I would appreciate it if any new people would check out the first part *looks hopefully* you should be able to understand this one through the summary. Any old readers can just skip on down below and read the prologue.  
  
Hermione and Draco are both accepted for a group consisting of one student from each House, The Key, which is designed to protect the school. Should the four-the other two are Jenna from Ravenclaw, a character I made up, and Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff-break apart, the Light side will crumble and Dark will take over. Draco is betraying them to his father. Lucius orders Hermione's capture, hoping to turn her to the Dark side. She knows she cannot allow herself to go over to the Dark side, but if she allows herself to be killed, the Dark side will take over the Light, due to her involvement with The Key. She agrees to become a Death Eater. She hides this secret from Harry and Ron, but both are suspicious, Harry in particular, who has begun to harbor feelings stronger than friendship for her.  
  
Lucius Malfoy tells Hermione and Draco that they have captured Sirius and found out a secret entrance into the school and that they plan to invade. Hermione, who has a spell on her so that she cannot tell anyone anything, is forced to keep silent. Harry is warned by a mysterious letter that an attack is coming. He hides. Voldemort comes and traps everyone in the Great Hall. He reveals Hermione in front of everyone. Harry breaks in and most escape. Hermione does not. He and Ron do.  
  
Draco overhears his father telling Voldemort how much he hates him (Draco). Voldemort intends to kill him. He decides to run away. He feels guilty at betraying Hermione to his father and takes her along. After a lot of running and hiding, they meet up with Harry and Ron in the Forbidden Forest and the four are taken by Dumbledore to a secret hideout. There they are informed that they must be the ones to take down Voldemort, no one else can. They agree, reluctantly.  
  
They venture down into the unsealed Chamber of Secrets, where Voldemort has set up his new headquarters. Ron goes elsewhere to save Sirius. Draco sacrifices himself to save Hermione, giving her the protection Harry once had. Voldemort does not realize this and tries to kill her. A green light of rope-the Avada Kedavera curse itself-extends between the two, slowly draining the life from both. Only the stronger will be left alive. Harry becomes attached as well, and the two together are strong enough to defeat Voldemort.  
  
Lucius and Wormtail escape, as well as many other Death Eaters. Ron and Sirius save them and Sirius and Dumbledore speak of what and when to tell Hermione and Harry of their new status: as the Chosen Two. The story continues . . .  
Prologue  
  
"I've seen the wicked fruit of your vine Destroy the man who lacks a strong mind Human pride sings a vengeful song  
  
Inspired by the times you've been walked on."  
  
--Creed  
  
His footsteps echoed along the long concrete hall, reverberating around him. He walked in steady strides that carried him easily and quickly along the corridor. He held his head high in a regal manner and his expression gave the impression that he was far too important to be there. The man radiated a feeling of arrogance. His eyes remained firmly forward on the steel door at the end of the corridor. He did not take the time to look around at the people in the prison cells surrounding him. Many of them called out to him for help, or called out to him in anger. He didn't acknowledge a single one of them.  
  
He reached the door. It was guarded on either side by a tall, shadowy, demonic figure cloaked in black. They hovered inches above the ground like ebony ghosts. Rippling hoods cascaded down over their faces, concealing the horrors beneath them. They gave off a feeling of despair, misery, and desolation that traveled to all those around them. No happy thoughts entered this place that they did not steal. The man stopped in front of them, far closer than many would dare come. This man had no happy thoughts to steal and therefore the Dementors did not effect him. They never had.  
  
"Move aside," he snapped and the Dementors followed his instruction, drifting in a spectral fashion off to the side and allowing the man to open the door.  
  
There were two more guarding the other side of the door. More hovered at intervals along this next hall. This was where the most dangerous prisoners were kept. Not many remained here for long, with so many Dementors as guards. Many went mad in days---some in no more than twenty- four hours. It was rare when a prisoner here managed to live out his entire sentence and when it did happen, they never dared attempt another crime again.  
  
The man sought out one of the cells near the end of the hall. A Dementor positioned at the door floated out of the man's way as he unlocked the barred door. The man inside was rolled into a fetal position on the hard, cot-like bed. Whimpers came from him softly every now and then, disgusting the man at such a display of weakness. The only light in the cell was provided by the midnight moon shining its light ever so subtley down into the cell and from the hand of the man that lay on the cot. The hand of pure light gave off enough light to guide the man to the cot easily, once his eyes had adjusted.  
  
The man walked over and gave the second man a brutal shove. The curled figure rolled over, his eyes widening in shock at the sight before him. He leaped to his feet and bowed low. "You have come for me as you promised!" he squeaked in hopeful disbelief.  
  
The man's arrogance was stronger than ever as he looked down on the pathetic, traitorious weasel before him. He held only contempt for the man and would easily have left him there. Unfortunately, it was this man whom he needed.  
  
"Wormtail," voiced the man quietly and powerfully. "I told you what you were to give me should I do this. Do you agree to the terms? For I will kill you should you say yes and betray me and I will leave you should you say no. Consider before replying."  
  
Wormtail gave a frightened sound and shook his head. "Yes, I will do whatever, sir. I cannot stay here any longer. Please take me!"  
  
"You agree then? You will not get another Light Attachment."  
  
A look of fear crossed Wormtail's face and he wrung his hands nervously, but he nodded nonetheless. "I am sure. Take me out of here! Any pain I must suffer will be better than this. How will we get past the Dementors?"  
  
The man snorted indignantly as though this was a question only a simple- minded fool would ask. "They will do what I tell them to do. I got in, did I not?"  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
"Then let us go. We have no time to waste."  
  
* ** *** ** *  
  
A/n: Okay, that's the prologue. The first chapter will be uploaded in a few days. R/r! 


	2. Destiny's Beginnings 1

A/n: Sorry it took me this long to get this chapter out. I've been really busy, and forgetful, of course! On top of all that, my computer screwed up and wouldn't let me upload a document onto FF.Net without it being in capitals. It took a while to fix, and I didn't figure anyone wanted to read this in all caps. Very annoying, I know, so I just held off. I hope you like this one. So far, this is my favorite, though I am currently working on chapter four. Anyway, I hope you like it too!  
::: 1 :::  
Destiny's Beginnings  
  
"Shadows paint the scenes  
Where spotlights use to fall  
And I'm left wondering:  
Is it really worth it all?"  
--Matchbox 20  
  
Sweat poured down his face as he yanked the last weed from the garden. The force of pulling it out combined with his exhaustion sent him tumbling backwards onto his back and into the dirt. Gray dust rose in a cloud around him, getting in his mouth and making him cough. When he closed his mouth, he could feel the dust crunching between his teeth. Cold earthen dirt from the roots of the weed scattered onto his shirt and became a darker muddy brown when it touched one of the sweat stains. He gasped for breath as he lay there, but felt relief at the fact he'd finally finished. His throat was dry, scratchy, and parched. He'd had nothing to drink since he'd begun this three hours ago and the hot summer sun had been beating on him mercilessly ever since, weakening him slowly.  
  
Harry Potter forced himself to his feet. He was used to feeling tired and thirsty. He'd learned to take it in his years with the Dursleys-and in his years at Hogwarts. His breathing came in short, ragged pants and he stood still for a moment, allowing his back to stretch out the cramps it had acquired from being bent over for so long. The sun beat down on his already burned face and he turned away from it so it could only hit his back. He turned his eyes to the sky. It was a vibrant azure with only a few ivory clouds moving through it at a leisurely pace. There was no wind, nor the slightest bit of chill. The day was beautiful to most, a day to be spent fishing or biking or playing sports. To Harry, all a day like this meant was heat stroke. However, as he stood there, taking in the combination of blues and whites and greens of trees, he found some small bit of admiration for the day's beauty. It could be worse. They could have made him come out here when it was snowing and far below freezing. It had been known to happen before.   
  
Why? he thought in longing to himself. When are you coming for me, Sirius?  
  
Of course, he got no answer. He'd asked this question to himself at least twice every day since he'd returned from Hogwarts and never once had anyone responded.   
  
It had been his longest summer ever. Though it was not the worst-he still believed that the summer before his second year held that title-it was certainly the most depressing. Never before had he had the tantalizing prospect of leaving this hellhole so near in front of him yet just out of his reach. They'd been sent home from Hogwarts over three months early due to Voldemort's attacks on students. The total rounded out to about five months of summer vacation. It had been three already, the duration of a normal summer. He'd gotten owls from Ron, but apparently Harry could not come to stay with them right then because of all the disorganization being sorted out at the Ministry. They were even lower on money than usual and-much to Ron's embarrassment-could not afford to keep Harry just yet.   
  
Sirius, while acquitted for the murders he'd once been imprisoned and outlawed for, could not take Harry yet. Sirius was helping Dumbledore and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix sort out larger and more secretive manners left over from Voldemort's downfall. Sirius did not yet have a house and was staying with Dumbledore in the sanctuary Harry had visited the year before. While Harry had assured Sirius that he was perfectly comfortable living with them all there, Sirius had been adamant that he not do that. Harry remembered the conversation with distaste.  
  
"But why?" Harry had demanded upon hearing of Sirius's unwillingness to let Harry remain with him.   
  
Sirius had sighed, appearing unhappy at the whole conversation. "Harry, I don't like having to send you away. I'd like nothing more than for you to stay with me here, but I don't feel it's a good idea. You're still recovering from this whole ordeal and being in the middle of a place where we go after side affects of it all . . . it won't do wonders for your recovery. It will take some time away from all these wizarding technicalities, which unfortunately, I'm stuck in the middle of."  
  
Harry let out a frustrated growl. He would not just be shipped off to the Dursleys. Not without trying for an alternative. "You can't honestly think the Dursleys are going to be warm and welcoming? Do you think they're going to support me and help me through it? That's about as realistic as the notion that Snape will start giving out points to Gryffindor. If you want me to recover, I need to be someplace where I know people actually care about me-in other words, not there. They'll just be depressed I'm not dead. Not to mention the fact they'll be livid about having to take me back so early! They'll be worse than usual."  
  
"I know they're awful people, Harry, and I'm terribly sorry at having to send you back to them." Sirius scowled. "I'd like nothing more than to turn them all into small rodents. There's nowhere else to send you to, though! Believe me, I've done everything possible to look. Hogwarts is too dangerous right now. Death Eaters rigged up secret traps and hexes everywhere. You don't know where or when you'll run into one. It's a large part of the reason the school's been shut down for a while. You can't go there. You've spoken to Ron and that's not an option, either. I don't see what else to do."  
  
"There's Hermione."  
  
"No," said Sirius instantly, turning stern. "She may be capable of taking you but I will not allow it. You've been through a horrible ordeal, but she's been through far worse. No offense, I know you went through it together, but I don't believe she wants to be near many people right now. She certainly gave off that impression around most of us. I don't think it's good for either of you to be so close until you've both had some more time."  
  
Harry groaned. He understood what Sirius had said about Hermione. He knew the way she'd been acting since the first day after they'd all gathered in the hospital wing. She'd withdrawn completely, hardly saying a word to anyone. She seemed uncomfortable around Harry too, though she was certainly a bit more open with him than with anyone else. He wouldn't do anything to hurt her more. However, what Sirius was proposing was quite the horrid idea. "You can't leave me at the Dursleys for six months!"  
  
"No, of course not. It's only for a couple of months until we get things calmed down. I'll come for you by the time the long summer's half over. I promise. Can you handle them for that long? I'll keep an eye out for other places you might be able to stay, too."  
  
In the end, Harry had agreed. He grimaced a bit at the conversation, wondering why he'd given in so easily. Why hadn't he tried to find somewhere else to go? He turned away from the sky and the sun and began to cross the lawn to the back door of the Dursleys' home. Honestly, he had tried. He'd thought about other opportunities since the summer had begun, but hadn't come up with anything realistic. He understood why Sirius had sent him here. That didn't make it any easier, though.  
  
He pulled open the door, looking out once more at the sky. The only thing better about the interior of the house was that it wasn't hot. Other than that, he preferred being outside. His eyes scanned the blue expanse above, hoping unrealistically that some owl would come sweeping down upon him from the heavens and drop a note into his hands. One from Sirius perhaps, telling him his stay at the Dursleys was over. Or one from Ron. Or-most unrealistically of all-Hermione.  
  
He hadn't heard from Hermione all summer. He'd owled her once, asking how she was and other casual conversational topics, but his letter had been ignored. Harry had not bothered to try again. She would owl him when she was ready and he had no doubt that the reason she hadn't yet was because she was still recovering from all that had happened to her. Ron had told him in his letters that Hermione hadn't contacted him, either.  
  
He closed the kitchen door on the world outside and on all his grim thoughts. He walked over to the sink and pulled a glass out from the cupboard, filling it with tap water. The water had a slightly bitter taste that all the unfiltered water did, but he didn't mind, draining it in one sip. He filled the tall glass again and drank that quickly too. He was rinsing it out when his momentary peace was disrupted.  
  
Aunt Petunia walked in briskly. Her eyes fell on Harry distastefully and her lips pursed in aggravation as they always did when she looked at him. "You had better be done. I told you not to even ask for water until you were finished," she snapped warningly, eyeing him like a slug that had soiled the bottom of her shoe.   
  
"I'm done," he replied curtly, finishing with the glass. "May I return to my room now?" His tone was sarcastic and angry. He'd had no patience with the Dursleys this summer. He found that they were more frightened of him than ever. While they would snap at him and order him around as they always had, and though he still had to follow their orders, whenever he opposed them verbally, they dared not rise to his challenge. He was well aware of what fuelled this fear. He'd informed them of Sirius's plans to remove him from them forever. He'd also added his own little bit-that if they weren't nice to him, Sirius would kill them all before he left-and they'd been skirting around him ever since. This was not the only force at hand, though.  
  
The news of the events with witches and wizards appearing everywhere had not died out. In fact, it had only increased, with more and more ludicrous, forged stories appearing each night. It was the common Muggle consensus now that it was the work of witchcraft, though no one really had any proof yet. Some Muggles refused to believe it, but most did. Those who did were not happy about it. There were beginning to be violent confrontations. A teenager was practicing for a school play involving a story about witches. He had been walking along the street waving a prop wand and practicing his lines. A gang of guys had seen him and beaten him up so badly he'd been put in the hospital. A man seen on the news preaching peace with "these newcomers to our lands" had been shot. A protest was started outside the news station. They'd televised it. People had been stomping around, yelling and carrying signs with things such as, "Kill the witches!" on them. Harry had been watching Dudley's kitchen television at the time as he ate. The sight had disturbed him terribly.  
  
The Dursleys were not deaf to these protests and attacks. They were terrified that the truth about Harry would leak out and that they would be seen as the people who'd harbored a wizard for almost sixteen years. They kept him locked inside as frequently as they could now, unless it was for a chore in the backyard, or a run to the grocery store. They'd warned him multiple times that he would be out on the street and on his own if he even thought about doing anything that marked him as a wizard. It had always been their greatest fear that the truth would get out, and now it had only been magnified.   
  
Sirius had sent him a letter about it not too long ago. He'd described the pressure coming down on the Ministry about this. The new Minister, an old member of the Ministry named Harold Burns, was planning to speak to the Prime Minister of Britain sometime soon. Find some sort of compromise, allegedly. Ron had been sending him copies of the Daily Prophet, which also reported on it. Ron, however, seemed to think that Burns was a bigger idiot than Fudge-and from what Harry knew, he was in complete agreement. Burns wasn't stupid-quite the contrary. He was a cunning man who would do anything to achieve what he intended to. He had spoken of going to war with the Muggles should they not agree to be peaceful with the wizards. Personally, Harry saw no sense in this. If they were intending on a peaceful compromise, why would they attack the Muggles? However, Burns had enough scattered support to be allowed what he wanted. All Harry could do was pray the Prime Minister agreed to whatever terms Burns may bring up.  
  
Aunt Petunia scowled at Harry. "Watch your lip, boy! No, you can't go to your room. I've got more things for you to do."  
  
Harry, however, was not interested. He'd had many days like this before over the summer, particularly right after he'd arrived. It had been a bad day when it came to memories and musings. When he got to thinking about Voldemort-as he had been off and on during his weeding of the garden-the Dursleys suddenly became quite less imposing. He didn't care what the Dursleys did-he wasn't going to put up with them. He rolled his eyes in Aunt Petunia's general direction and walked out of the kitchen toward the stairs.  
  
"You come back here!" she called shrilly after him.  
  
Harry would dearly loved to have retorted with a rude phrase, but he knew that there were certain things he could not get away with by duress. Insulting Aunt Petunia to her face was one of them.  
  
He climbed the stairs in a weary way, his foot falling loudly with each step. He went into his room and shut the door behind him. He collapsed onto his bed, completely ignoring Hedwig who was hooting at him from the windowsill. He didn't even look in her direction. He stared up at the ceiling, his face blank. It was one of his very bad days. He couldn't seem to refrain from thinking about everything that had happened. He'd gradually learned to shut the memories out for the most part, but two months wasn't long enough to learn it well and locking them away did not heal them. There were days when they would escape to circle over Harry like a cloud throughout the day-this was a day like that.  
  
Hedwig hooted at him in an extremely offended and hurt way. Harry sighed. "Not now, girl," he muttered quietly, not in the mood for company, not even that of his owl. He grabbed a second pillow off of his bed and pressed it hard over his eyes, squeezing out all the sunlight and leaving only blackness to look into. He was exhausted and the prospect of sleep appealed to him greatly. He had not been sleeping well lately. While he'd been having scattered nightmares since he'd returned to the Dursleys, he'd never had them all that frequently. Nightmares were something he wasn't plagued by often, though every now and then one would pass through his defenses to wake him suddenly in the middle of the night. Now it seemed he had no defenses left. Every night for a week he'd had a nightmare. The first time he'd awoken panting in his bed in the middle of the night, he regarded it as normal and tried to return to his slumber only to find more awaiting him. Now, every time one awakened him, he stayed awake.  
  
The oddest thing about these dreams was that it was rare when he was even in them. So far only two had involved him. The rest had to do with Hermione, and on an alternate basis, Voldemort and Lucius and Draco. Harry wished they involved him more. It hurt him more to remember the things involving Hermione. Other odd thing about them was that he always knew he was dreaming-but couldn't seem to wake up until the dream was over. He avoided sleep to the best of his ability, but he was too worn out from the day's work and many sleepless nights. He nearly fell asleep right there and would have had Uncle Vernon not shouted at him angrily up the stairs to come down and eat.   
  
Harry threw the pillow off of his face and looked at the time on his wristwatch. It was five past six, though the sun was still high and hot. His feet drug as he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen.   
  
Dinner was, as usual, unpleasant. Uncle Vernon read the paper and grunted at the stories, occasionally launching off into some long rant about how idiotic something was. Dudley wolfed down platefuls of food, barely coming up for air in between bites. Aunt Petunia spent her time nodding and agreeing with everything her husband said; asking Dudley if he was sure he had enough to eat ("You're a growing boy who needs nourishment, Dudykins, don't eat like a rabbit!") and helping him pile more food onto his already overflowing plate; and yelling at and criticizing everything Harry said or did. The television, at least, remained off. They'd grown tired of watching news about wizards, a word that frightened them.   
  
Harry picked at his food, not eating much. After about fifteen minutes of moving his food around rather than putting any in his mouth, Dudley reached over with a fork and pried Harry's piece of chicken from his plate. In a few moments, it had disappeared into his endless pit of a stomach. Dudley was worse about his appetite this summer than ever. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had long since stopped attempting to enforce his diet. They bought him custom made uniforms for his school rather than put up with what they considered the school's "nonsense." The Smeltings staff was making Dudley keep to his diet, apparently, and Harry doubted he'd seen his cousin without some kind of food in his hand since his summer holiday had begun.  
  
"May I be excused?" he asked soon afterwards, feeling queasy at the sight of Dudley who still had not stopped inhaling the food.  
  
"Load the dishwasher and clean up the kitchen," barked Uncle Vernon from behind his newspaper. "Then mop the floor."  
  
Harry knew better than to defy Uncle Vernon, who, contrary to Aunt Petunia, wasn't scared enough to let him out of chores. Harry remained in the kitchen, following Uncle Vernon's directions, until long after the others had left. When he was finally done, it was a little after nine and the sun had finally set. Harry did not bother to ask again to go to his room, figuring the Dursleys would only give him more work to do. They wouldn't notice if he was gone as long as the kitchen was clean.  
  
This time Harry did not hesitate before sinking into his bed. He pulled up the covers and let his head fall back onto the pillow, asking his silent question to Sirius once more. Hedwig had perched on Harry's wooden footboard and was dozing peacefully. She barely cracked an eye when he entered before returning to her slumber.  
  
Harry felt his eyes closing and wondered vaguely what horrors awaited him in sleep that night. However, he was too tired to care.  
  
***  
  
It was just moments after he'd drifted deep into sleep that he felt himself reawaken in a new world. Here it was gray and gloomy, a place with a distinct lack of any hope. It was a type of a cell. He wondered if it was Azkaban, while at the same time wondering why he'd be dreaming about the wizard prison. His dreams had never been centered there before. He saw Hermione sitting on a cot in the corner and immediately he felt panic rise within him. He'd had enough nightmares now to know this wasn't a good thing. He began to do his best to awaken, but this nightmare was no different from the others, keeping him indefinitely imprisoned in his own private hell.  
  
He could do nothing more than watch. This had been the case in each nightmare. He could stand to the side, watching, but he was no more than a ghost in the dream-unseen and unacknowledged. He watched apprehensively as the door of the cell opened and Lucius Malfoy stepped in.   
  
Hermione said something to him vehemently which Harry could not hear. It was the first time he'd ever been deaf in a nightmare before. Lucius's expression turned ugly and he raised his hand. Harry looked away, his breathing fast and labored, knowing horribly what was happening behind him. He could suddenly hear again, but all he heard was Hermione's screams.  
  
"Stop it!" he yelled, though he knew he would not be heard. "Don't hurt her, please, stop it!" He could not break from the nightmare for another horrible few moments. He refused to look, but he could not help but hear.   
  
***  
  
Then he was back in his bed, sitting up and panting, each breath a shaky venture, his hands trembling. This had been, by far, the worst nightmare yet. He held out no hope to the fact that he'd be getting anymore sleep.  
  
A sharp rapping came at his door and Aunt Petunia's shrill voice diffused through the door and into Harry's ears: "You stop making a racket, you wretched boy! If you have woken my Dudley . . ." She trailed off and a moment later Harry heard her footsteps echoing away, to check on Dudley he was sure. Harry had not even known he'd screamed, though that didn't surprise him to any great extent.  
  
He stood up and walked over to his window, which he'd left open. He leaned his arms on the sill and stared out into the dark night, letting the soft breeze whispering through the trees blow his already messy hair about and to tame the shivers left over from the dream. Gradually he relaxed, but he still felt clammy and queasy. He glanced at his watch. It was ten thirty. Why did this happen to him every night? Why were these dreams so strange?  
  
He shook his head and put his eyes into his hands. He'd convinced himself that he was coping with everything that had taken place fairly well. He wasn't dwelling on it all too frequently and was carrying on with life. But perhaps that was a lie, the truth to which was hidden within these odd dreams. Maybe he really was losing it.  
  
***  
  
Some distance away, in a quiet, still house in the suburbs of London, the night was pierced by the scream of a teenage girl at the same moment the scream of a boy across the country had punctured his cousin and aunt's sleep. 


	3. Destiny's Beginnings 2

A/n: Here you are! I think you'll like this part better. I do, anyway. R/r!  
Destiny's Beginnings 2  
  
Some distance away, in a quiet, still house in the suburbs of London, the night was pierced by the scream of a teenage girl at the same moment the scream of a boy across the country had punctured his cousin and aunt's sleep.  
  
Hermione Granger sat up, trembling hard and breathing erratically, in her bed. She saw the light flick on under her door and heard footsteps thudding along the hallway towards her. The handle of the locked door jiggled. A moment later, a knock came on her door and her dad's worried voice called in, "Hermione? Hermione, are okay? Sweetheart, open the door . . ."  
  
Hermione forced herself to calm down enough to reply in a composed manner. "Yes, Dad, I'm fine. I'm going back to sleep now," she replied, though nothing could be farther from the truth. After the dream she'd just had, nothing could convince her to return to sleep.  
  
She could hear her dad's disheartened sigh from beyond the door. "Okay, Hermione. But if you want to talk to me, you can." He walked away more slowly than he had come and after some time, the light disappeared.  
  
Hermione knew she'd hurt her father-and her mother-and she'd been hurting them all summer. She didn't intend to do it. She knew they loved her and wanted to support her through all this, but she found it too difficult to open up to anyone. She'd not written a single letter to Harry or Ron in two and half months. She'd not even managed to reply to the letter Harry had sent her. She'd disconnected herself entirely from everyone around her who cared.  
  
Hermione was still shaken from her dream and crossed the room to the connecting bathroom. She splashed some cold water on her face and sat for a moment on the toilet seat, letting the last shivers die away. She'd been having nightmares all summer. It was the ones like the one she'd just had that were the worst. It was rare when she'd get an entire night's sleep. The nightmares were more like memories to her, which made them all the more unbearable. They weren't simply some insane and frightening fabrication of her mind that she could awake to and write off as nothing more than a nightmare. Everything really had happened and that was something she'd been trying to avoid coping with ever since she'd come home. While things where easier than they had been two months ago, they were still difficult for her.   
  
She wandered back into her room and sat down on the edge of her bed. The clock's red numbers glinted at her: Ten thirty-two. She'd grown used to constant weariness over the past months. She had not grown used to the unending hours of silence and stillness to cope with until morning came. She kept the light off, not wanting her father to see it and return. At least her mother-who always tended to become much more emotional-was not home at the moment. Had she been, Hermione would have had a lot more trouble getting her to leave. While her dad tried to respect her requests for privacy, her mother was much less likely to give it to her.  
  
Hermione felt around her bedside table, looking for the book she'd been reading. She knocked it to the floor where it landed with a dull thunk. She hesitated a moment before picking it up, listening for any sounds from her father's room across the hall. When none came, she picked the book up. She dared to turn on the small reading light her parents had given her for her fifteenth birthday last year. She opened the schoolbook to where she had it marked. They had no homework over the holidays-the teachers had not had the opportunity to give them any. However, Hermione still would read her schoolbooks sometimes, though she already knew most by heart. She could still lose herself within their pages, remembering times when the contents had mattered to her so much more.   
  
Hermione fingered the bookmark she'd been using. It was a sealed envelope from Harry. She'd gotten it months ago and had not yet even opened it. She hadn't wanted to talk to either of her friends then, Harry in particular. He knew more about everything that had happened. She wasn't sure if Ron knew the details about the encounter in the Chamber of Secrets, even now. Talking to Harry, knowing what he knew --even if he did not bring it up, would be a challenge. She'd been using the letter as a bookmark ever since, silently promising herself that the next time she opened a book would be the time she'd open the letter. Days grew into weeks and weeks into months and still the letter remained silently closed in her book. The more time that passed, the more difficult it seemed.  
  
She stared at it for a moment, looked at Harry's familiar, slightly sloppy writing on the front. She started to set the letter on her table once again, averting her eyes and beginning the familiar promise: Next time. Her arm froze halfway there. She brought the letter back to her. She was being foolish. The least she could do was read the letter. No one said she had to reply. It wasn't as though Harry was going to start rambling on about what had happened-knowing Harry, he'd avoid the subject for as long as he could.  
  
She tucked her finger under the seal and ripped it away. Hermione withdrew a piece of parchment and unfolded it, reading the words that had been written and ignored so many months ago:  
  
Hermione,  
How are you? I'm back at the Dursleys'. Sirius said he didn't  
think it was healthy for me to live with him in Dumbledore's hide-  
out. He's claiming I'll only have to stay for half the summer, and I  
pray he's not lying. I've only been here a week and I'm counting  
every day until Hogwarts begins once more. Ron can't have me  
to stay, either.   
Anyway, I'll stop rambling about my life now. Hope you're   
feeling well. Write back, if you can-I desperately need people  
to talk to right now. Besides that fact . . . I think both of us could  
use someone to speak to freely right now. If you like, you could   
give me your phone number. It would most likely be easier and  
quicker than owl post. I'd give you the number to my aunt and  
uncle's, but I somehow get the impression that after Ron's antics  
in third year, they won't be so keen to let me accept phone calls.  
However, under threat of death by Sirius, I could probably con-  
vince them to let me call you. Again, just an idea.  
  
Love,  
Harry  
  
Hermione could hear Harry's hesitant voice through the written words of the letter speaking that last part. It was as much as he'd dare say for a long time, she figured. She appreciated it. She felt guilty for ignoring him for so long. He'd been so supportive to her and she'd been rude and unresponsive. And being stuck at the Dursleys! She'd assumed he was going with Sirius and had not known he'd spent the past months with his horrid relatives. Much as Hermione kept to herself and wanted her parents to give her space, she couldn't imagine not having them around.  
  
Before she even really considered it, she was crossing the room to where her trunk was. She opened the top of it and fished out a piece of parchment, quill, and inkbottle. Now that she'd read his letter, she felt obligated to reply. Deep down, she'd known this would be the case all along. She realized that she hadn't been so much afraid of reading what Harry had written, but of having to write him back.  
  
She sat down at her desk, flicking on the low lamp. She dipped her quill into the inkbottle and held it over the piece of parchment. She wrote Harry's name at the top, but then stopped. Hermione had no idea what to say to him. It was too leisurely to simply write about everyday things. Besides, her recent everyday activities were not something she particularly wanted him aware of. Her best friend suddenly seemed like quite the stranger in this aspect.  
  
Hermione must have sat there undecidedly for at least an hour, the ink drying slowly on her quill. Finally, she sighed, dipping the quill into the ink once more and beginning to write.  
  
Harry,  
Hello. I apologize for not writing for so long. The truth is, I didn't  
even read your letter until just a few minutes ago. I had it, but I suppose  
I wasn't ready to talk to you-or anyone, for that matter-yet. I'm so  
sorry you've got to stay with the Dursleys. I don't suppose they're  
treating you well? I hope Sirius comes for you soon, Harry. Of course,  
he may have since you wrote last for all I know. If not, I wish you the  
best.  
I'm doing as well as can be expected after everything that's happened,  
though I'd prefer not to talk about it. Have you heard from Ron lately?   
Give him my regards.  
  
Thank you,  
Hermione  
  
Hermione re-read her letter. She nodded to herself once she'd finished. She'd been honest about why she had not written. Harry at least deserved her honesty. It was short, but it would give him the message without going into details. She looked over his letter again to see if there was anything she'd left out of hers. She remembered to give Harry her phone number and added it in a postscript. She was startled to realize she wanted him to call. When she'd begun writing the letter, it had seemed like a difficult task. Now that she'd done it, she realized just how much she missed Harry and how nice it would be to hear is voice again.  
  
Hermione did not have an owl and therefore could not send the letter back right away. She supposed she could send it by Muggle post. She had Harry's address buried somewhere in her trunk-he had given it to her in their second year in case she wanted to write him the Muggle way. She'd never used it, but it was the only way she had to contact him now. Once she'd dug out his address, she copied it onto the front of an envelope from her desk, praying all the while that the Dursleys would not intercept it.  
  
She glanced over at her bedside clock again. It was now ten minutes past midnight. She picked up her letter and turned off her light, sneaking over to the door and unlocking it. Hermione figured, as she walked down the stairs-being careful to avoid the creaky steps-that she could get the letter into the mailbox outside for morning pickup. Her father would not approve of this of course, nor did she want him to know she hadn't gotten any sleep. Her horrible nightmare came back to her and she shivered involuntarily. Would everything ever return to the way it was before, or was she doomed to live with these visions and nightmares for the rest of her life? She wasn't sure how much more she could take of it.  
  
Hermione left by the back door. The cool summer night air blew in her face and she relaxed a little. She'd always loved summer nights. She'd sneak out of the house when she was supposed to be asleep and just sit in the backyard, enjoying the warm, peaceful night. She was tempted to do so now, but compromised to at least do what she'd come out to do first.  
  
She crept around the side of the house and out to the sidewalk where their mailbox was. She put the letter in and tilted the flag up. Turning back, she noticed something she had not as she was walking out-her mother's car was in the driveway and a light was on in the kitchen. Hermione winced. Her mother's conference had obviously ended and now she-or, even worse, both she and her father-was in the kitchen. She was lucky she hadn't been caught coming out. She'd be blessed if she didn't get caught coming in. It would be a miracle if she could get up to her room before her mother peeked in to check on her and found her missing.  
  
All thoughts of lounging outside on the back porch swing were gone from her mind. She ran back around the house and slipped in through the door. She was walking quickly as she could without making sound when she heard voices from the kitchen-her mother and father's. They were talking in low voices. Hermione sighed, hoping that if both were preoccupied with their conversation (which was most likely about the boring dental workers' conference her mother had attended), she'd be able to get back upstairs safely.  
  
Hermione's foot was just settling on the first step when a soft word reached her ears from the kitchen: "Hogwarts."  
  
Hermione froze. She turned and looked back toward the kitchen. The door was shut so her parents couldn't see her, nor could she see them. Some mysterious force drove her away from the stairs and toward the kitchen door. The same force propelled her to lie on her stomach and press her ear against the crack under the door. Why were her parents talking about her school?   
  
She heard her father's voice immediately. "Cecile, I'm just not so sure it's the right action to take. We've discussed this endlessly since we found out what happened to her, we've gone over the pros and cons, but I just don't know."  
  
"Daniel, be reasonable. Even you agreed it's dangerous."  
  
"Yes, it is. I don't deny that. But we've known that since she was eleven!"  
  
"Nothing like this has happened before. I was willing to look the other way about all the terrifying things she and her friends managed to get themselves into. This is different. Look at what it's done to her! She still wakes up screaming and she's still completely distant. She still flinches if you touch her when she doesn't know you're there. She's made no progress from where she was when all this started. She won't even talk to us. If she ever recovers entirely-and yes, I did say if, because right now I'm worried-there's always the risk that something similar will happen again unless we take her away from it."  
  
Hermione felt her heart beating within her chest. They couldn't be talking about what she thought they were. She had to be misunderstanding them. She felt her heart sink as her suspicions were confirmed by her father's next words.  
  
Daniel Granger sighed. "I know and you're right when it comes to all that. You know I don't want her to get hurt any more than you do. Hermione's lost so much, though. I don't want to make her lose Hogwarts, too. She loves it there. So much has been taken from her already, I just don't think it's fair to pull her away from her school, too. We need to at least talk to her about it. We're deciding her future here, Cecile, and she's getting no say in it."  
  
Hermione stood slowly and backed away from the door. She didn't want to hear her mother's reply. Didn't need to hear her father's next words. She'd heard all she needed to, all she could bear to. She ran back up the stairs, not caring if she made a lot of noise. Once in her bedroom, she locked the door and sat down hard on her bed, staring in disbelief. Her parents had been discussing pulling her out of Hogwarts for months and they'd never once said anything. She didn't want to leave Hogwarts. While she'd never be able to look at the place quite the same as before, she still considered it her second home. They couldn't just pull her away.  
  
She drew her knees up to her chest and stared out the window. Bitterly, she thought, Mum won't ever let me go back. And now my last bit of a life is gone.  
  
***  
  
It was a sunny morning as Harry rose from his bed, yawning. It had been three days since the awful nightmare that had awakened him. The past two nights he'd had others, though neither as bad. Last night he'd not had one at all. It was a relief to get an entire night's sleep and he woke feeling oddly refreshed and relaxed.  
  
He dressed slowly and patted Hedwig some. Harry didn't bother to hurry. His aunt and uncle could wait, as could whatever horrors they intended to subject him to that day. He could already feel the temperature rising out the open window and peered down at the yard outside. The grass was getting long. Aunt Petunia would probably have him mow it. No doubt she'd find other things for him to do as well. She always enjoyed sending Harry outside to do yard work whenever the temperature became sweltering.   
  
Harry waited in his room for Aunt Petunia to yell up at him to get down there. He wasn't going to move until she instructed him to. Why be eager to get tortured? However, it wasn't Aunt Petunia's voice that called up to him, but instead, Uncle Vernon's.  
  
"GET DOWN HERE NOW, BOY!"  
  
The house seemed to shake at Uncle Vernon's thunderous words. Harry leaped to his feet instinctively. What had he done to make Uncle Vernon so mad? He figured he could weasel his way out of whatever trouble he was in by threatening them, but he was still a bit nervous as he descended the steps toward his uncle.  
  
Uncle Vernon was in the living room, pacing, a letter in his hands. His face was red from anger. He instructed Harry to sit on the couch, which Harry did. Uncle Vernon tossed a torn-open envelope into his lap, which Harry picked up in confusion.  
  
"Explain that," snapped Uncle Vernon venomously.   
  
Harry looked over the letter and saw nothing out of the ordinary except for the fact that it was addressed to him. The envelope was empty-Uncle Vernon held the letter. He looked to the top of the envelope for the name of the sender and felt his heart jolt in surprise when he read Hermione's name.  
  
"So?"  
  
Harry looked up at Uncle Vernon. His mood was too good to be spoiled by his uncle's bad one. He couldn't resist. "Well," said Harry in a very serious manner, "this is called an envelope. You put letters in it and send it to-"  
  
"DON'T BACKTALK!" howled Uncle Vernon, his face going from bright red to purple. A vein in the side of his neck was throbbing in anger. "Who is this person?"  
  
"She's my friend," said Harry calmly.  
  
Uncle Vernon snorted. "You haven't got any normal friends. Your kind didn't use normal post, I thought."  
  
"Hermione lives with Muggles. She's a witch, though. She just hasn't got an owl to send with letters." Harry watched Uncle Vernon's eyes bulge at the words "witch" and "owl." He smiled inwardly. A full night's sleep, a letter from Hermione, and a chance to watch his uncle have a nervous breakdown. This morning wasn't so bad. "May I have my letter now? After all, it is mine."  
  
Uncle Vernon didn't reply. He was reading the words on the letter. "Been complaining about us to your friends, have you?" He didn't sound angry-instead he sounded worried. The idea of Harry's wizard friends knowing how horrible they were to Harry frightened him.  
  
"Oh, yeah," said Harry nonchalantly. "Everyone knows I don't like it much here." Uncle Vernon changed colors once again, going from purple to sheet white.  
  
"Hmm," was all Uncle Vernon said in response. "What's this about, "after everything that's happened?"  
  
Harry had not read the letter but knew perfectly well what Hermione was referring to, even taken out of context. His eyes turned cold toward his uncle. "Well, things happen at my school. We were nearly killed this year. Has a bit to do with why I had to come back here so early. Not that I'd expect you to care. Good thing Sirius knows I don't get much support from you-he helps me."  
  
Uncle Vernon appeared on the verge of passing out from fright now. He threw the letter and Harry and walked quickly from the room, muttering about it only been a matter of time now before Harry was gone forever. Harry grabbed at the letter and quickly scanned the words. He grinned at the phone number on the bottom. It would make things easier when it came to communication. His eyes paused on the "as good as can be expected" part. It didn't sound like she was doing too well. That would definitely be Hermione's way of saying so and trying to make it sound like she was fine.  
  
He stood and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed the telephone off its hook on the wall. Dudley, who'd been scarfing toast and eggs and staring at a cartoon on the television screen looked at Harry.   
  
"What are you doing?" he asked, his beady eyes watching Harry take the phone. "You can't use that."  
  
"My godfather says different," muttered Harry. Dudley's eyes widened at the mention of Sirius and he quickly turned back to the television. "Dudley!" Dudley turned back to Harry apprehensively. Harry jerked his head at the door. "Get out. It's called a private conversation."  
  
"I'm not leaving!" snapped Dudley, his old streak of disobedience striking up again.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "I know it takes a lot of effort for you to stand up because of all the pounds of fat you're pulling with you, but do it. Or else I'll go and get my wand-either way. I'd actually prefer the latter . . ."  
  
Dudley pulled himself to his feet and shuffled out of the room, glancing back at Harry with a sullen expression. He hated being told what to do, particularly by Harry, which was why Harry grinned to himself. As soon as Dudley had gone, Harry started to punch in Hermione's telephone number. When he'd put in the first three numbers, the good morning was shattered by Aunt Petunia's scream from the living room.  
  
Harry was startled and dropped the phone. It fell down as far as the cord would let it, hitting the wall behind it with a smack. Aunt Petunia screamed again. This time Harry realized she wasn't really screaming-just shrieking out her husband's name at the top of her lungs. He heard Uncle Vernon's footsteps pounding down the stairs, calling back to Aunt Petunia. There was a whole minute during which Harry stood staring at the closed doors beyond which no sound came. Then, quite suddenly, the door he'd been staring at burst open, revealing Uncle Vernon glowering down at him. Aunt Petunia lurked behind him, staring at him through narrowed eyes.  
  
"OUT!" yelled Uncle Vernon, as though Harry were a dog. Uncle Vernon marched forward, grabbing Harry by the back of the collar of his shirt and dragging him along as he stomped up the stairs.  
  
Harry sputtered and struggled, but his uncle's grasp didn't falter until they'd reached the top landing of the stairs. There, Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by both arms and threw him brutally into the closed door of his bedroom. Harry hit it hard and winced.   
  
"What are you doing?" he yelled angrily, stepping forward.  
  
Uncle Vernon shoved him back again. "Get in there and pack your trunk!" he snarled. Harry didn't move for shock and confusion. Uncle Vernon growled and grabbed Harry once more by the shirt collar, opening the door himself and throwing Harry in. Harry landed hard on the floor. He scrambled back up to his feet. His uncle had pulled Harry's trunk into the center of the room and opened it. He looked to Harry. "Get all of your junk in it! You've got five minutes."  
  
Harry did not comprehend the situation, but didn't dare to disobey. He quickly went through his room, pulling out every wizard supply he had and putting it in his trunk numbly. Most of it had already been in the trunk, so there wasn't much to grab.   
  
"Get that ruddy owl!" barked Uncle Vernon once Harry had finished packing his things in. Hedwig had been watching from her perch, her eyes showing the confusion Harry felt. Harry noticed that Aunt Petunia was once again behind Uncle Vernon, looking contented. Dudley stood beside his mother, grinning at Uncle Vernon's treatment of Harry.  
  
Harry locked Hedwig in her cage and shut the trunk. Immediately, he found himself being pulled out of his room by Uncle Vernon. "That had better be every last bit of junk," he threatened as he pulled Harry down the stairs with one hand and the trunk down with the other. Aunt Petunia jogged along after him, holding the owl cage as though it were infected with some horrible disease. Harry couldn't plant his feet firmly to stop Uncle Vernon, so his legs drug helplessly behind him.   
  
Uncle Vernon stopped at the front door and dropped the trunk with a loud thud. He pulled open the door and threw Harry out. Harry rolled down the front concrete steps and landed painfully on the stone walkway below. A moment later, his trunk came hurtling down the steps after him and he just barely managed to roll aside so as not to get hit by it. Aunt Petunia threw out Hedwig's cage. It landed on the grass beside Harry. Hedwig was flapping and screeching frightfully inside.  
  
Wincing from the pain of the impact, Harry propped himself up on his hands, staring at his uncle who was framed in the doorway.   
  
"You stay out of here, boy! Don't you ever come back!" With that, Uncle Vernon slammed the door.  
  
Harry stared. After sixteen years of threatening to kick him out, they'd finally done it. And Harry had no idea why. 


	4. Destiny's Premonitions 1

::: 2 :::  
DESTINY'S PREMONITIONS  
  
"And I was the one who was lifting you up  
When you thought your life had had enough  
And when I get close, you turn away  
There's nothing I can do or say."  
--Hoobastank  
Harry lay stunned for a moment, staring at the door. Finally, he pulled himself to his feet. They were sure to be watching him and he wasn't going to sit there gaping like an idiot. He would do something. He had to go somewhere, as it was obvious that he was not to be staying here any longer. So, he righted Hedwig's fallen cage and stroked her feathers through the bars in an attempt to calm her. She was still screeching in fright. Then, he grabbed his trunk and began to pull it along the sidewalk down Privet Drive, carrying Hedwig's cage in his other hand.   
  
He tugged the trunk along several streets toward Mrs. Figg's. He was very grateful that she lived so near him-she'd help him find a place to stay. By the time he reached her house, he was panting from the effort of pulling the trunk. Had he not been in shape from Quidditch and all the other strenuous activity he'd done lately, he would not have been able to do it. He wiped some beads of sweat from his brow and started to pull the trunk up Mrs. Figg's walkway-only to be stopped a moment later by a bright red sign.  
  
"FOR SALE-HIGH PEAK REALTORS." Below that, stamped on the bottom of the sign hastily, was the word "SOLD." Harry stared dumbly at the sign for a moment. Mrs. Figg had moved. She must have decided to move closer to Hogwarts when she'd gone to teach there last year. Harry sighed and tilted his face in desperation toward the sky. He felt no sadness at being kicked out of the Dursleys. He was completely confused as to why they'd done it in such a hurry, but confusion was as far as his emotions went where they were concerned. His current problem was where to go. He was on the streets with nowhere to go looking highly suspicious with his trunk and owl in a time when wizards were feared. Should anyone open his trunk, he'd be in a lot of trouble. He had Hedwig-he could send her to Ron or Hermione or Sirius. Unfortunately, it would take her a few days to get to any of them. Where would he go in the meantime?  
  
Feeling uncomfortable being so out in the open-he knew the nosy occupants of this part of town were sure to be staring out their windows at him-he dragged his trunk to the end of the street where the small neighborhood park was. There were some trees and open fields. A baseball diamond and some swings and a sandbox. Harry settled for a thick patch of grass no one had mowed in a long time that had a shady tree over it. He dropped the trunk and set down Hedwig's cage, then sat down and leaned his back against the tree trunk. He watched a small boy throw sand from the sandbox into the air and giggle as it rained back down on his head. He saw two women sitting on a bench some distance away from the boy, talking animatedly and glancing over at him suspiciously every minute or so.  
  
Harry ignored them and closed his eyes. He thought about every option he had. He had no money, so public transport was out. Walking the few blocks he had with the trunk had worn him out entirely, so walking was basically hopeless. Not to mention the fact that he didn't even know where he would walk or ride to. He didn't have Hermione's address, Dumbledore's sanctuary was deliberately hidden in a place Harry didn't know, and while he'd been to Ron's before, he was still uncertain of how to get there by Muggle means. He could use magic, but it would get him expelled or he could be caught by Muggles. The stakes were twice as high for that particular option.  
  
He sighed and reached down to scratch his leg. When he ran his fingers over his pocket, it made an odd crunching sound. Harry remembered how he'd tucked Hermione's letter hastily into his pocket as Uncle Vernon had dragged him upstairs. The letter had her phone number on it! He jumped to his feet. He just needed to find a phone that didn't require money and then Hermione could come and pick him up! London wasn't too far in terms of driving. Hopefully, he'd only have to wait a few hours. It was a Sunday, so her parents probably wouldn't be working.  
  
Now the trick was to find a phone. He sighed, deflated. There was no way he'd be able to find a telephone that didn't require money. He'd have to go into a shop and ask, yet people had been guarded about such things lately what with the wizard reports on the news-not that they needed to be, as he was probably the only wizard who had to seek out shop phones to use. He opened his trunk. He figured there might have been some time in the past when he'd tucked some Muggle money in there.   
  
He tore the trunk apart-while being careful not to let the two nosy women spy any wizard supplies-and found two sickles. Wizard money would be no use to him. He sighed and closed it back up. He looked at the large trunk and Hedwig. If he were to go into a shop and ask to use a phone, he'd have to leave his wizard things there. However, he didn't trust that someone would get into the trunk or mess with his owl. Feeling torn, he remained where he sat and thought.   
  
Despite the fact he'd slept well the night before, he still felt the lingering effects of past fatigue wearing on him. He felt himself nodding off. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head and stay awake. He had to find some way to reach Hermione. She was his only hope right now. His exhaustion was stronger than his logic, however, and he soon found himself going limp, his eyes closed. He succumbed to the blackness.  
  
**************  
  
Watching this whole ordeal from far away were two men. Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black straightened from where they'd been leaning, looking into the bowl-like object that was not at all unlike Dumbledore's pensieve. Dumbledore frowned, in deep thought, still staring at the misty picture of the teenager in the park. Sirius, however, wasted no time.  
  
"Dumbledore, I told you it wasn't a good idea to send him back to those . . . people, if you can even truly call them that. I accepted it at first-all the reasons I gave Harry had substance and logic. However, it wasn't the whole truth. I would have been happy keeping him here-it may have been more difficult for him to recover, but no more so than with the Dursleys. And now look at what they've done-they've thrown him out and he's stuck with nowhere to go! I'm going for him. I'll be back."  
  
Dumbledore's hand, wrinkled and fragile by sight but strong and unyielding by touch caught his arm, stopping him cold. Sirius spun back around with a look daring Dumbledore to stop him. Dumbledore was his friend and his colleague, a man he trusted and was glad to work under. Sometimes, though, Sirius would not allow anyone to stop him, no matter whom that person might be. Now was one of these times.   
  
"Sirius, we must not intervene," said Dumbledore quietly. He looked regretfully back at the bowl. "Harry will find a way out. It is certainly not the most dangerous of situations he's been in. He is one of the Two, Sirius. He is part of a team. Hopefully, if they are growing in strength, as they need to be, the other member will be aware of his situation. She will offer assistance."  
  
"Dumbledore, I'm sorry for what I'm about to say, but I feel you're being quite naïve about all this!" cried Sirius angrily. "Harry is in danger. No, it's not the most dangerous of situations, but after what the Muggles just announced on the news, to be seen with an owl and old trunk like that will get him in a lot of trouble. He might be arrested by Muggles-he might be hurt. As for Hermione, I don't really think she's receiving much of anything. She's still far too detached from even herself-you think she'll be receptive to Harry? Not yet-hopefully, not at all. It will spare them both a lot of pain and suffering if they don't end up bonding the way they're supposed to."  
  
"Harry is receiving her dreams, Sirius," said Dumbledore. "She too will begin to receive his dreams, or thoughts, or visions. It has begun. There is no stopping it. If they do not bond properly, that will do no more than allow their foes to gain ground over them."  
  
"You said we'd help them in any way we can!" growled Sirius in frustration, glancing once more at Harry's sleeping form. "This would be helping!"  
  
"We are helping by doing nothing." Dumbledore's voice was growing impatient. "We are helping by seeing how far along their process of bonding is. If by morning nothing has occurred, we will intervene. Now settle down, Sirius."  
  
Sirius sat down, running his fingers nervously through his recently cut black hair and watching Harry with worry lines creasing his face. Dumbledore stood behind him, eyes focused on the bowl. He felt a discomforting sense of urgency, regret, and anger within him. It had indeed begun, a process not well known, a bond so rare it was commonly believed to be myth. It would lead the two on a journey of love, discovery, and friendship-as well as a harder journey of deceit, pain, and death, all of which they'd both already had their fair share of. The process of the bonding of the Chosen Two had begun. Yet neither of the Two had any idea.  
  
**************  
  
Hermione put her face in her hands as her parents repeated their reasoning for the tenth time since this argument had begun. They didn't understand-they couldn't understand. They couldn't see why she'd want to return to her school after all that had happened. She couldn't see why herself-she just felt it. That was enough for her. It wasn't enough for them.  
  
She and her parents were sitting at their kitchen table. Her father had brought up the subject of her not returning to Hogwarts, finally, though it had been days since she'd overheard her parents' conversation. She was struggling with what to say. She hadn't spoken this much at one time for months, but she knew she had little choice in the matter now.  
  
"Your logic isn't enough to stop me," she said quietly once her father had trailed off. "I want to go back. Hogwarts is the biggest part of my life! I wouldn't want to go back to a Muggle school. Muggle subjects have lost all interest for me."  
  
"But after what happened last year-" began her mother once more.  
  
Hermione snapped, unable to hold back any longer. "Mum, drop it! You think I don't know what happened? You think you need to keep reminding me? You don't! I'm well aware of everything that went on there. That's not enough to keep me away, so why is it such a problem for you? Voldemort's gone! The wizarding world is safe from him now."  
  
"There are always others," said her father, shaking his head sadly. "The man who hurt you is still running around freely. We don't want to pull you away from Hogwarts-we know you love it there."  
  
"Then don't! Just . . ." Hermione trailed off, gasping. A sudden pain was ripping through her skull. A film of red and white dots reared up in front of her eyes, masking her vision. Her hands went to her forehead and she closed her eyes in an attempt to clear her sight. When she opened them again, the white and red was still there. She was dimly aware of her parents saying her name. She had a sudden flash, a picture of Harry sitting under a tree with Hedwig in a cage beside him. This was all she managed to distinguish before her head stopped throbbing just as suddenly as it had begun.  
  
"Are you all right?" asked her mother in a slightly panicky voice.   
  
Hermione nodded her head, hardly even aware of her mother's words. She hadn't any time to think about it, though, before the pain was back again. It was not as bad as before, though still enough to make her wince. This time, there was no red obscuring her eyesight-only a wall of bright white. Her physical world faded around her. She couldn't hear anything, couldn't feel her parents' hands shaking her. She didn't fight it now-she was too curious. She had another vivid, realistic flash of picture-Harry's Uncle Vernon, the man she'd seen picking him up at Platform 9 ¾ in past years, dragging Harry down a flight of stairs and throwing him and his trunk out the door. She noticed a calendar hanging on a wall Vernon dragged Harry past. Something deep within her was aroused by this and quite suddenly she was looking at a close-up of the calendar. Today's date was circled. The pain in her skull suddenly roared with such intensity that she screamed without realizing it. No longer was she interested-now she was scared. She wanted it to end.  
  
Startlingly, it did. Hermione's vision cleared again and the pain receded, leaving a dull throb where it had been. She felt weak and exhausted. She was surprised to find herself lying on her back on the linoleum kitchen floor, her mother's arms supporting her. She noticed her father standing some distance away at the kitchen phone, dialing numbers quickly.  
  
"Dan! Don't call, she's waking up," her mother called over. Her father promptly dropped the phone and rushed over.  
  
Hermione received the dreaded question-"What happened?" She didn't know. She could do no more than shake her head. She gladly relaxed into her mother's arms. She felt as though she'd run ten miles, then swam the same distance. Rest appealed to her greatly.  
  
"You just started clutching your head and didn't respond," explained her father, his voice a little shaky. "You were shaking. You started to scream, then it just stopped."  
  
Hermione nodded. "My head was hurting," she whispered, her eyes narrowed in confusion. "I don't remember screaming. I was barely aware of the pain until the end. I didn't know you were there. I saw . . ." She bit her lip. Should she tell them? It might just make them feel even more strongly about not sending her to Hogwarts.   
  
"What did you see?" asked Mrs. Granger, running her hand through Hermione's hair.  
  
She sighed and held up her hand in a gesture warning them to wait. She thought about everything she'd seen. Harry and his uncle . . . the date on the calendar. A crazy idea formed in her head. Had all that really happened? The more she thought about it, the more insane it sounded, while at the same time, it made clearer sense. She explained it to her mother and father, standing up and taking a seat in the chair she'd been sitting in before she'd unknowingly fallen. She still felt weak and tired, but it was wearing off a bit.  
  
"Is this something wizards can do?" asked her father in response to her idea that Harry might really have been kicked out of his house.  
  
Hermione shook her head, realizing the extent of her idea's unreliability. "No. I've never heard of it before. But I just have a feeling . . ."  
  
"Contact him," suggested Mr. Granger reasonably. It was clear he didn't believe that anything she'd seen had actually taken place.   
  
"I don't have an owl and I don't have his phone number," she said. "If we could go and see him, maybe . . ."  
  
"Hermione, we can't go driving across the country because of this odd little vision of yours!" cried Mrs. Granger, sounding shocked Hermione would even suggest something like that. Hermione wasn't surprised at this reaction. This had happened before-in a way. She'd had waking nightmares before, where something would trigger a memory and she would go stiff and become unresponsive for a moment, remembering some horrible happening. Not like this though. This time was far different.  
  
Mr. Granger shot his wife a look behind Hermione's back. "Do you know where he lives?" he asked his daughter gently.   
  
"Surrey."  
  
"Well, that's not too far. An hour's drive, perhaps," said Mr. Granger. "If you have his address, I suppose I could go and ask. Mind you, this entire thing sounds quite odd, but I believe you saw what you did. He's certainly helped you enough-the least we can do is follow up on this. Do you want to come?"  
  
Hermione felt relieved that her father was willing to look into her vision. Insane as it sounded, she felt desperate to get to Harry. Something was wrong. She could feel it as strongly as if it were herself that was in trouble. She weighed her options. Go with her father and look for Harry or stay with her mother and continue their argument about Hogwarts. It wasn't a difficult decision.  
  
Within ten minutes, she and her father had gotten into their red Subaru. Hermione clutched the scrap of paper with Harry address on it in one hand. She sat in the front passenger's seat, staring out the window silently, engulfed by the waves of her thoughts. As the trees sped past her, she thought hard about her vision. She was startled to admit to herself that strange and frightening as the vision had been, it had been a welcome diversion to her usual thoughts. Hermione felt deep within herself that the vision she'd seen had indeed happened. She didn't know how she'd become so certain in her thoughts, but she was. While that thought terrified her, it also intrigued her. Her emotions were quite conflicted on the topic.   
  
Mr. Granger stayed quiet most of the ride, which Hermione was grateful for. It had been strange to speak as much as she already had that day-she was ready to withdraw once more into the silence she'd found comfort and solace in most of the summer. Mr. Granger was aware of this and did his best to allow his daughter to deal with her pain in whatever way worked for her-hard as it was on him to watch. He and Cecile had been trying to convince Hermione to see some type of a psychologist for quite some time now, but Hermione had refused adamantly. Mr. Granger was sad to realize that most of the real conversations that his daughter had been willing to have with him had been arguments.  
  
It took them an hour and a half to reach Harry's neighborhood and that was mainly because they'd taken wrong turns several times. All they had was an address, rather than directions. They'd gotten help from a man at one point, which was, in all honestly, probably the only reason they found it at all. They located the house with the large number four outside of it and parked along the curb.   
  
Mr. Granger unbuckled his seatbelt. He agreed with his wife in the sense that he didn't believe that any of Hermione's vision had really happened. However, he felt that if Hermione was actually willing to leave the house for the once, no matter the reason, it was something worth investing in. He looked to Hermione. "Do you want to come, or wait?"  
  
Hermione bit her lip in thought. "I'm going on what I know from Harry. I think the Dursleys would be more likely to tell you what you want to know if it was only you," she said slowly. "They'd grow suspicious if I come, too, and if they suspect I'm a witch, they won't tell us anything. Ron tried to call Harry in his third year and told his Uncle Vernon that he was from Hogwarts. Harry's uncle told him Harry didn't live there." Hermione left out the part about Ron shouting. "However, I want to come." She got out of the car before her father could say anything.   
  
She looked up at the Dursleys' house. The lawn was immaculate and well trimmed with flowers lining the walk up to the doorsteps. The house looked like it could belong to any respectable suburban family, but Hermione knew that the Dursleys were far from respectable. She followed her father up the walk and onto the steps, thinking hard for an excuse as to why they'd want to see Harry. She'd come up with nothing when the door was pulled open by a large, beefy, angry-looking man who glowered down at them-or, rather, down at her. Her father was possibly taller than he was, but not by much. She recognized the man immediately to be Harry's uncle. He was just as unpleasant as she remembered. Her search for excuses froze and she stared dumbly.  
  
"Hello," said her father, giving the man a bright smile. "I'm Daniel-"  
  
Hermione cut him off, knowing that it probably wasn't smart to say their last names-or her first name-in case Vernon recognized it. "And I'm Hermie," she said, using her most hated nickname. She winced inwardly. She'd hated that name since the first time she'd been called it. She continued on with her excuse-which she was coming up with as she went-not dwelling on it. "We're here to see a Mr. Harry Potter."  
  
Her father looked down at her in confusion but she didn't look back. She had to take charge of this. Her father was unaware of how important it was that Vernon not know they were friends of Harry's.   
  
Vernon's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Harry Potter? What business do you have with him?" He eyed her beadily, like a dog sizing up a challenging stray that was there to steal its bone.   
  
"We're here to see him about a bit of unlawful magic," she said. She saw panic rise in Vernon's eyes at the word 'magic'. He took a step back, muttering about wizards showing up at his door. He paled considerably. Hermione ignored this, actually enjoying it vaguely. For all the things the Dursleys had done to her friend, they deserved a bit of terror. "We need to speak to him at once. This magic calls for his immediate expulsion from Hogwarts and possibly more severe punishments as well."   
  
She said this to feed on Vernon's hatred for Harry. Harry had told her numerous times in the past that his uncle liked nothing more than to see Harry suffer. She figured that if he knew they were there to expel Harry from the one place he loved, he'd be more than willing to let them see him. Sure enough, there was an interested spark in Vernon's eyes, but he still appeared guarded.  
  
"Why send someone so young?" he questioned.  
  
"I'm Head Girl," she said simply, as she'd been anticipating this question. The way she saw it, Vernon would have no idea that Hogwarts would not send their Head Girl to be involved in such matters, but the title gave her more power than simply saying she was a student. She nodded to her father. "And he's Head of Harry's house. Can we see him, please?"  
  
Vernon continued to eye them for a moment or two longer. Finally, he grunted. "He's not here," he admitted. "He left earlier."  
  
"Left? Left how?" asked Hermione, a certainty in the pit of her stomach. Harry hadn't left at all. He'd been kicked out, just as Hermione had suspected.  
  
"That's none of your business! He left, all right? Didn't want to stay here anymore, so he packed up and left. Now get out of here! I don't want any of your kind on my property-especially not now. Leave, or I'll call the police!" With that, he slammed the door. Before he did, though, Hermione's eyes caught a glimpse of something behind him: A calendar hanging on a wall by the stairs. The same calendar that she'd seen her in vision. She could see her father following her line of sight and his eyes widening, remembering what Hermione had said about a calendar. Then the door slammed shut, cutting off all sight.  
  
They stood there silently for a moment. It was Hermione who moved first, turning and walking back down the walkway to where their car was parked. Her mind was alive with questions and confusion. She ignored it all for the time being. Over the past year she'd had a lot of practice in suspending all emotion. It came easily to her now and she did it frequently. She'd deal with all this later. First they had to find Harry.  
  
Daniel was not as adept at suspending his disbelief as his daughter. By the time he snapped out of his stupor, Hermione was already opening the car door. He jogged after her, getting into the driver's seat. He looked over at her only to see her looking straight ahead as though nothing had happened. Her face was completely blank and calm. He sighed inwardly. He'd seen her do this before, detaching herself from all feeling. He hated to see it.   
  
"Hermione," he said and she looked over at him. "Was that the calendar you saw in your . . . vision?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes. We need to look for the nearest park," she said calmly, looking straight ahead again.  
  
Confused though he was, he started the car. Hermione had been right about this vision. It was likely she was right about the other as well. They drove in silence for about ten minutes, circling the neighborhood and looking for any parks that might be around there. Sure enough, they soon spotted a small park a few streets away. Hermione felt a stab of fear. Oh my God, she thought, her disbelief beginning to hit her. How can I do this? This isn't right, it isn't normal. Maybe this is all just some coincidence after all . . .   
  
Her father pulled up along the curb again. Hermione scanned the park with her eyes, begging some higher power for the park to be devoid of Harry Potter. Her prayers were not answered. Her emotions were torn in two when she saw Harry laying asleep against a distant tree, next to his trunk and Hedwig. Part of her wished it not to be true, because seeing Harry meant that everything in her visions had been correct. The other part of her felt overjoyed at the sight of her friend. All she wanted to do was go to him, no matter how she'd found him.   
  
"There he is," said her father in a slightly shaky tone. He looked at her. "You can go and get him. I guess he has been kicked out. I'm not going to leave the poor boy out there after all he did to help you-I wouldn't leave him even if he hadn't helped. He can come home with us." He avoided talking about how he'd been found.  
  
Hermione nodded and opened the car door, surprised to find her knees to be slightly unsteady. Just days ago she'd been fearful of writing him and uncertain of having him call her. Now she was meeting him face to face after a very odd day. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances. She shrugged that aside and started toward Harry.   
A/n: Okay, that's chapter 4 (on ff.net, anyway; it's only the first half of chapter two on MW, but as I have to post in notepad due to computer problems, it will only let me post half the chapter at a time)! I know it was short and ended in an odd place, but I couldn't help that. Please review, guys-I got about thirteen reviews for the prologue and three for chapter one. Make my day and click that little button down there. It only takes a second or two.  
  
Do you think Hermione's reactions to all this are believable? I have a tendency to doubt myself about such things, and I'd love to know your opinions on it. So far, I think this story will turn out to be about as long as the first, and I think I am going to make it a trilogy after all. I'm not sure though. Reviews might make me decide, though . . . :-) 


	5. Destiny's Premonitions 2

A/n: Wow, thanks for all reviews! Here is the next part.   
Destiny's Premonitions 2  
Hermione stopped in front of Harry and peered down at his sleeping form. She knelt beside him and shook him a little, saying his name twice before he appeared to regain consciousness.  
  
Harry's eyes opened into slits, squinting into the sun behind her. Due to the position of the sun, all he could see was the silhouette of the figure before him and couldn't place her. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, yawning, and attempting to get a better look at the person before him. His mouth froze in mid-yawn. Hermione was standing up in front of him.  
  
"Hermione?" asked Harry incredulously.  
  
"Hi," she said, giving him a small smile. The word seemed very inadequate, but she wasn't certain of what else to say.  
  
He pushed himself to his feet and hugged her. She relaxed at his touch, hugging him back gratefully. Waves of gratitude and even happiness-an emotion she hadn't felt in a long while-washed over her. Just being in Harry's presence seemed to help. He pulled away and gave her a wide, but confused grin.  
  
"It's great to see you!" he cried. He scratched his head, smile faltering a little. "Uh, how did you find me?"  
  
Hermione sighed, her blank expression returning. She shook her head, looking at her feet. "It's a very long story, Harry-one I personally am unsure of myself. Come on, I'll help you get your stuff in my car. You can stay with us for a while, as the Dursleys have kicked you out."  
  
"How did you know?" asked Harry, looking very confused as he bent down to grab the handle of his trunk. "I was going to find a phone and call you for help, but I fell asleep instead. I haven't been sleeping well lately . . . having all these nightmares . . ." He trailed off, feeling stupid. If he were having such bad nightmares, he couldn't imagine what Hermione saw when she fell asleep.  
  
Hermione just shook her head, picking up the other handle of Harry's trunk and helping him lift it and carry it toward the car. Harry was glad the nosy women had left since he'd fallen asleep and that the park was now empty. He noticed the sun was setting. He'd fallen asleep many hours ago.  
  
Harry said nothing more to her as they loaded his things, Hermione's father helping him with the trunk that was hard for even he and Hermione to lift very far. Mr. Granger assured him he was welcome at their home for the rest of the summer and Harry thanked him profusely. Confusion still gnawed at him though-how had Hermione known? He kept trying to catch her eye, but she seemed determined to look anywhere except at him.  
  
Once his things were loaded, the two climbed into the back of the car and Mr. Granger got into the driver's seat. Hermione turned her attention out the window, leaving Harry confused and a bit hurt. She seemed completely indifferent to his existence. He supposed that she might just be uncomfortable around him after everything that had transpired, but he couldn't stop the slight feeling of pain in his heart.  
  
Mr. Granger watched all this through the rearview mirror. He caught Harry's eye and gave the boy a sympathetic look. "So," he said in an attempt to break the tense atmosphere. "How have you been?"  
  
"Wonderful," said Harry sarcastically. "Living with the Dursleys, being tormented by Dudley and brutal labor by day and horrible nightmares by night only to end up thrown out on the street. Come to think of it, getting thrown out was the best part . . ." He smiled. This somehow seemed to make Hermione withdraw even further and Harry's smile disappeared quickly.   
  
The ride back to the Granger home was mostly silent. Hermione said nothing. Mr. Granger would sometimes make small talk with Harry, but neither of them were really interested in anything being said-both had their minds on Hermione.  
  
It was well past dark by the time the car pulled into the driveway of Hermione's home. Harry liked it immediately. It had a warm, cozy, inviting look to it and he found himself relaxing. The rest of the summer wouldn't be so bad-in fact, it would be a whole lot better than it would have been had the Dursleys not kicked him out. He watched as Hermione carried Hedwig's cage past him and up the steps to her front door, avoiding his eyes the whole way. He sighed sadly. He wondered if Hermione was angry with him for some reason, or just didn't want to be around him anymore. Maybe he reminded her too much of everything that had gone on. He couldn't blame her for that, but he prayed that was not the case as he helped Mr. Granger carry his trunk into the house.  
  
Mrs. Granger met them, her eyes expressing obvious shock as she saw him. She gave him a small smile before turning her attention back to her husband. "Dan, she . . . you mean the vision she had really did happen?" Her voice was full of disbelief.  
  
"Vision?" asked Harry. He looked to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, but they didn't look back, so he looked to Hermione. "What vision?" Hermione caught his eye for the first time, but she didn't hold his gaze for long.   
  
"Apparently," Mr. Granger answered his wife. "Believe me, I'm as shocked as you are. Harry doesn't have anywhere else to go, though."  
  
Harry felt self-consciousness sweep over him. "I don't want to be a burden," he said quickly, getting their attention. "I can owl Sirius . . . he can come and pick me up in a few days if it's too much trouble. I'll understand."  
  
Mrs. Granger shook her head quickly, smiling warmly. "No, of course not. You misunderstood me; you're welcome here for as long as you want, Harry. Hermione can show you to the guest room and then you can come and get something to eat. I have dinner ready . . . I didn't know your trip would take nearly this long . . ."  
  
Harry actually felt relief at this. Much as he liked Sirius and much as Hermione's behavior toward him hurt him, he wanted to be there more than with his godfather. Hermione led him up the stairs silently after her parents insisted they leave his trunk downstairs. She showed him to a room right next to one he assumed to be hers, judging by what he could see through the open door. Crookshanks was dozing on the white bed and there were schoolbooks piled about in many places. Harry's room, right next to it, was devoid of anything personal as a guest bedroom would be. There was a bed against the far wall, a dark green and white bedspread thrown over it with green pillows to match. There was a table beside it with a clock and a lamp and a cup holder. There was a dresser against one wall and a desk against another, but besides that it was vacant of much else. While it was small, it was larger than the room he'd had with the Dursleys and he looked forward to spending the remainder of his summer there.   
  
Hermione set Hedwig's cage down on the desk and began to turn and head back out the door. Harry stopped her by laying a hand on her arm. She looked up at him then away again.  
  
"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked. "I can't take the silence anymore. Are you angry with me? Do you want me to leave you alone? Please, just tell me, whatever it is."  
  
Hermione sighed and caught and held his gaze. "I'm not mad," she said quietly. "I just . . . I have a lot on my mind right now and . . . that's all. I'm fine, really, I just need some space."  
  
Harry knew there were other things she was deciding not to speak of at the time, but he didn't press her about it. He nodded and allowed Hermione to lead him back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Daniel and Cecile sat at the kitchen table talking quietly when Harry and Hermione entered. There was a roast chicken and potatoes and salad there, making Harry's mouth water. It was nice to be able to survey a meal at a table where he was welcome-and at a table where Dudley wasn't eating so fast it made Harry sick to watch. Hermione sat down between her father and Harry. She picked at her food and ate and said little. Harry's feeling of hurt had vanished. Now he was worried. He had a feeling this wasn't just her reaction to him being there-that she'd been acting that way for quite some time. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were quiet as well, though they'd talk with Harry at times. Harry ate enough to fill him and felt it to be an odd sight when Mrs. Granger began to wrap up leftovers to put them in the refrigerator. The Dursleys never did any such thing-Dudley never left anything to be eaten the next day, even when he was sick.  
  
Hermione stood up while her mother was putting away the dishes and announced in a near-silent voice, "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Mum, Dad. Goodnight, Harry." She turned and walked from the room quickly. Harry, who had been standing by the counter talking with Hermione's father about he earlier events with the Dursleys, watched Hermione leave. He felt Mr. Granger's hand on his shoulder and looked up at the man, who looked sad and worried.  
  
"Don't take it personally, Harry," Daniel Granger said. "She's been like that for months now. It's not you. It's just everyone. After all that happened to her . . . I don't know, I guess she's just built these walls around herself and won't let anyone past them. I hear her screaming at night sometimes, but she'll never talk to us. It hurts. I hoped maybe she'd be more open with you, maybe it would help her to have you around." He stared at the doorway through which his daughter had just disappeared. "Unfortunately, that doesn't appear to be the case."  
  
"Give it time," said Harry with a certainty he hadn't been aware of until that moment. "I was withdrawn at first too. I know she went through worse, but . . . maybe I can get her to open up. I can try."  
  
Mrs. Granger gave him a sad sort of smile and walked over to them, drying her hands on a dishtowel as she walked. "You're a sweet boy, Harry. I hope you can. Because we've been trying and trying and no matter what we do, we can't."  
  
Harry left shortly after, climbing the stairs the guest room. He passed Hermione's room on the way. Her door was closed now and as he walked past it, he heard Daniel Granger's words in his head. He nearly tripped over Crookshanks as he entered his room. The ginger cat hissed at him and backed away, his ears flattened and his teeth bared. Harry couldn't help but think the animal looked more like a saber-toothed tiger than a domestic cat. The only person Crookshanks would let touch him was Hermione-and, oddly enough, Harry. He wouldn't go near Ron-which Harry could easily understand. The cat was amazingly intelligent, as had been proven in their third year, and Ron had made it crystal clear that he hated Crookshanks. Even now, when he could accept the cat, he still didn't like him. Crookshanks wasn't happy with anyone else touching him either-he'd seen scratches on some of the girls in Hermione's dorm before and had even heard Lavender Brown complaining about Hermione having to keep her cat in the dorm with them. Harry found it odd that Crookshanks was willing to allow Harry to touch him when he wouldn't do so for anyone else. He never really cared to touch the cat, despite the fact it would let him. While he didn't detest it to the level Ron did, he still found it to be a menace. Sometimes he wondered.  
  
He thought once more of Hermione and what her father had said. He remembered seeing Crookshanks on her bed earlier. Hermione was hurting and while she wouldn't let him do much, he would do all he could. He walked toward the cat hesitantly, bending down so that he was at eye-level with it. Crookshanks gradually stopped hissing and stood, tip of tail twitching, eyeing Harry studiously for a moment. Harry had to laugh a little at the expression of the feline-so human-like in nature. Finally, he walked toward him and Harry lifted him up. Crookshanks growled warningly and Harry was sure to support the cat properly so as not to anger him. He walked quickly back toward Hermione's door, not wanting to keep him suspended in the air for longer than necessary.  
  
He knocked on Hermione's door and waited for a response. One didn't come, so Harry called in, "Hermione? It's me."  
  
"Harry, I told you, I'm going to sleep," she called back. Her voice contained no irritation, just a strong weariness and reserve.  
  
"I know. I don't mean to bother you. I just found Crookshanks and I thought you might want him with you. He is your cat after all and he doesn't exactly like other people . . ." Harry trailed off his ramblings as he heard the springs on her bed creak and soft footsteps pad toward the door.   
  
A moment later the handle turned and the door opened. Hermione gave him a small smile and took her cat from Harry. The cat's look changed from annoyed to content as he began to purr in her arms. She smiled completely for the first time Harry could remember in ages and stroked his fur lovingly. "Thank you, Harry," she said, smiling at him as well. "Goodnight, then."  
  
He smiled back, happy to see he'd helped some. "Goodnight." He turned and walked back to his own room, hearing Hermione's door close behind him. He didn't bother changing into his nightclothes. He pulled off his shoes and threw himself backwards onto the bed, pulling the covers over him in a careless manner and switching off the light. Despite all the sleep he'd gotten, he was still tired. He wondered about the talk he'd heard about a vision, and how Hermione had found him. The question had been bothering him all night, but he hadn't wanted to ask. Maybe tomorrow. This was his last thought as he drifted off into sleep. Tomorrow . . .  
  
***  
  
Flames flickered in the darkness and the chill swept over Harry instantly. He shivered in the cold blackness, looking around himself. The Chamber of Secrets-a place that had haunted his dreams for longer than he could remember. He saw Hermione standing beside him and Voldemort sitting on his throne. It was just like before-just as realistic and just as frightening. Harry lost himself in the moment, forgetting that he was only in a dream. The fear took over and he began to shake. For once, Hermione seemed aware of his presence. Never before in one of his dreams had she been conscious that he was there. She leaned into him and Harry hugged her.  
  
Voldemort's red eyes burned like flames, brighter than the fire that lit the torches around them. "Lucius," he called, sending shivers down Harry's spine. "Get the girl. I'll get the boy. AVADA KEDAVERA!"  
  
"CRUCIO!"  
  
***  
  
Harry screamed, long and loud, sitting up in his bed. Finally his voice faded away, but the screams of a girl didn't die for another several seconds and began again immediately. Though Harry was shaking and sweating, he wasted no time scrambling to his feet. No logic ran through his mind, only desire to reach Hermione.  
  
He had not bothered to put on his glasses and so his journey to his door and out into the hall was seen in blurry focus. He reached Hermione's door as her parents were reaching the top of the stairs and as Hermione's last scream died away into silence. Mrs. Granger immediately began to pound on the door and call in to her daughter. Mr. Granger, looking distinctly shaken and unsettled, looked to Harry.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Both of you were screaming."  
  
"I . . . I didn't scream . . ." said Harry, remembering his dream and waking up, but not remembering his shout. "Did I? I just heard Hermione . . ."  
  
Mr. Granger shook his head. "No, you were screaming, too. You stopped and Hermione continued, but you screamed. Did you have a nightmare?"  
  
Harry nodded numbly, the realizations sinking in for the first time. Neither had time to say anything else, because Hermione opened her door. She looked just as shaken as Harry felt and their eyes met immediately. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I just had a bad dream. Go back to bed, it's not a big deal . . ."  
  
"You both had nightmares and woke up screaming at the exact same time?" asked Mr. Granger. He paused and massaged his temple. "I think I'm getting a headache. First your vision, now this . . ."  
  
Hermione ignored her father, looking straight at Harry, her eyes wide with shock. "You had a nightmare, too?" She paused. Harry was happy to see the look she got whenever she was calculating a situation back in her eyes. "What about?" she asked.  
  
"Voldemort," he said. "Lucius Malfoy. The Chamber of Secrets."  
  
Hermione paled considerably and leaned against the doorframe, staring at him. "The Killing curse," she continued, nodding. "The Cruciatus Curse . . ." Harry nodded and no one moved for a moment as the two stared at each other wordlessly.  
  
Mrs. Granger broke the silence, looking between the two in concern. "Are you two all right?"  
  
Harry nodded, not breaking his eyes from Hermione's. "Yeah. We're fine now. I think we should all probably head back to bed."  
  
Mr. Granger nodded slowly. "Okay. Strange as this all is, I think we should wait until morning to discuss it further. All of us are far too exhausted tonight. Call us up if you need anything. I'm just going to finish helping your mother clean the kitchen, then we'll come up too." He gave his daughter a hug and kiss, which she was too distracted to return. "I love you. Goodnight. Goodnight, Harry. Don't worry about all this-we'll figure it out."  
  
"Yeah," whispered Harry, nodding in his general direction. " 'Night."  
  
The two didn't move until both the Grangers had descended the stairs once more. Finally, Harry cleared his throat. "This has happened before," he stated. "I've been having nightmares for several weeks now-all of them involving you, but rarely me. Something tells me I'm not the only one whose been having them. Nightmares involving Lucius and a strange cell . . . Voldemort . . . Malfoy . . ."   
  
Hermione winced at his first words and he regretted them. She shook her head looking overwhelmed. "I've been having the same ones. My God. What is going on?"  
  
"I don't know," said Harry. "But something tells me that this vision your parents keep speaking of may be connected. Care to fill me in? Because I doubt I'll be sleeping anytime soon. Nor will you, if my guess is correct."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "No. Me either." She turned and headed back into her room with a call back of, "Come on, then."  
  
Harry followed her inside and closed the door on her instruction. Crookshanks hissed as Hermione pulled him aside to make a seat for Harry on her bed. Harry sat down and looked around her room. The walls were pretty bare and when he thought about it, her room didn't look too much more personalized than his did. He supposed that made sense-after all, she did spend most of the year at Hogwarts. Her room here had to seem pretty temporary.  
  
Hermione sank down next to him, burying her face in her hands and sitting silent and still for several seconds. Harry watched her, unsure of what to think, say, or do. Finally Hermione spoke, though the sound was muffled, as she didn't remove her hands from her face. "Why?" she asked in a sad voice. "Why me? Why always me . . ."  
  
Harry sighed and put his arm around her comfortingly. He half expected her to pull away and was surprised when she didn't. She looked at him and he could see a faint glimmer of tears in her eyes. "Harry, I don't understand this, but it scares me. I just don't understand why I'm always at the center of everything. Why can't the universe just leave me alone?" She leaned into him and Harry was glad to see she wasn't edging away from him anymore.  
  
"It's okay, Hermione," he consoled. "Just tell me what this vision is about. This is all very strange, but I'm sure there's an explanation. Sirius or Dumbledore or someone will be able to help us, I'm sure."  
  
Hermione nodded, temporarily releasing her silence and explaining the earlier events of the day to Harry. He listened intently, not interrupting and allowing her to finish before speaking. Instead of immediately beginning to reassure her or speculate, he leaned back some and sighed again. The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon and streetlights that filtered in. In the dim moonlight, Hermione could see a confused and thoughtful expression on Harry's face.  
  
Finally, he spoke. "Well, that's certainly stranger than the dreams," he agreed. "Has this ever happened before? Even something you may have just written off as being nothing."  
  
Hermione bit her lip, remembering the few waking nightmares she'd had. A few might have involved Harry and a few were not memories from her past as most were. She could remember no details and was hesitant to inform Harry of these nightmares anyway. She was tempted, though, for the first time since the summer began to talk to someone. This startled her. "No," she finally said.   
  
Harry could see she was keeping something from him, but didn't press her on it. He knew now wasn't the time. He could see now that Hermione had stopped talking that a look of distress had come over her face once more. He hugged her to him quickly, and then stood. He gave her a small smile. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll work this out. I'm going to owl Sirius. He needs to know about all of this and maybe he'll know something about all this. I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Okay." Just as Harry's hand touched the doorknob, she called out, "Harry?" He turned. "Thank you."  
  
He grinned at her. "Anytime. Thank you and your parents for letting me stay here. I'll tell you, even with the nightmares, that bed beats the tree in the park any day."  
  
Hermione smiled back. "Well, you didn't actually expect us to just leave you out there, did you?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I've seen the worst types of people, 'Mione. I didn't know what to think. I'm just glad I have some place to stay for the rest of the summer-and I'm very glad you're here."  
  
Hermione stood and ran her fingers through her hair in a tired sort of way. She glanced at the clock, which was just striking eleven. "I think I'll read some of Hogwarts: A History. I won't be sleeping anytime soon."  
  
"Me either," agreed Harry. He watched her pick up her large, tattered copy of Hogwarts: A History and couldn't manage to suppress a laugh. "You and that book, Hermione! How many times have you read it?"  
  
Hermione gave him a small smile. "I haven't exactly counted, Harry. Several, though." Noticing the fact that he was shaking with unheard laughter, she frowned and asked, "What?"  
  
"Last year, when Ron and I were looking for a way into Hogwarts to get you out, he said we should Apparate inside." Hermione rolled her eyes, making Harry laugh harder. "He said maybe he should read Hogwarts: A History, and I told him not to bother, because when we got you, you could recite it to him word by word."  
  
"Waste of a perfectly good opportunity there, Harry," she informed him, sitting down and flipping the book open to where a red cloth bookmark was positioned. "You should have made use of it while it was there." She gave him a playful smile. "I'm sorry to say though that I probably could have recited it to him after all."  
  
Harry finally managed to stop his laughter. He watched her eyes roam the book pages and said, "You know, Hermione, I've got some books in my trunk I don't think you've read yet. I could go and get them." Seeing the look on her face, he hurried to assure her, "No, they're not Quidditch books. Would you like me to fetch them?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "That would be nice. But what will you do?"  
  
"You know Ron and I-we never read unless we're forced. I'll find other things to occupy my time. I'll owl Sirius and Ron, then I'll polish my Firebolt or something. I dunno. Don't worry about me; the books won't be a great loss. I'll get them." Harry opened the door and slipped out, closing it quietly behind him.  
  
Hermione watched him go with a small smile playing on her lips. She realized this a moment later and the smile vanished, replaced by shock. Harry had been there only a few hours and had already managed to make her smile and even laugh. She hadn't done any such thing since waking up in the hospital wing several months ago. In just a few hours, Harry had managed to get past the walls she'd constructed around her emotions, where no one else had managed it, even with months of work. Hermione looked back down at her book, surprised to realize she didn't resent this fact at all.  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore watched the happenings in his bowl, smiling slightly. Sirius sat back in his chair and stared, shaking his head. "I don't believe it," he muttered. "Already they're receiving dreams and visions?"  
  
"As I said, Sirius, they are strong enough." Sirius nodded, not noticing the frown in Dumbledore's eyes. "This proves it. I do believe you were wrong when you told Harry that being with Hermione would make it harder on the both of them. Indeed, it seems that the two are much more relaxed than we have seen them yet. This is good for them."  
  
Sirius nodded. "Yeah, I think it is, in that sense."  
  
Dumbledore looked at the fatigue on his colleague's face, and said in a firm voice, "Sirius, take a break. Get some dinner and go to sleep. I will awaken you should anything happen with the two."  
  
Sirius seemed to be pondering an argument, but finally stood and sighed with one last glance at the bowl. "Okay, Dumbledore. Thanks. It's easier on me to know that Harry and Hermione are coping better now that they have one another." With that, he turned and walked from the room.  
  
Dumbledore watched the door close quietly behind Sirius before sitting forward and peering into his bowl at Hermione where she sat on her bed. So many secrets none of them are ready to know yet, not even Sirius, thought Dumbledore wistfully. "You are right, Sirius," Dumbledore whispered to himself. "It will be easier on them-just as it was for the Chosen Two before them."  
A/n: Okay, again, please tell me if you think Hermione's reactions are believable. Still unsure. The only way you can do that is to review! 


	6. Destiny's Escalations 1

A/n: Here is chapter six! Please read/review.   
  
::: 3 :::  
DESTINY'S ESCALATIONS  
  
"Last time you fell and you hit hard  
Your wounds have healed by now  
But you still see your scars."  
--Three Door Down  
  
The sun dawned the next day upon two extremely weary and confused teenagers. Harry sat in his room, hand cramped, reading the letters he'd written over the course of the past several hours. He'd written them slowly. Once Hermione's parents had come back upstairs and went into their room, Harry and Hermione went between one another's rooms every now and then, to talk, or in Harry's case, to ask advice on letters. Harry was happy to see Hermione becoming more open to him. He'd just settled down to finish his letters on his own with no more distractions an hour ago. He'd gone in to ask Hermione how to spell a word to find her dozing peacefully on her bed, his book lying closed next to her and Crookshanks curled on her stomach.  
  
Harry's first letter to Ron had been extremely easy to write. With his friend, he could talk and be open easily. He could call the Dursleys whatever he wanted and speak about the odd things happening to Hermione freely. It was harder with Sirius. It was more difficult to figure out the right ways to put things. It was the latter letter that had taken him the longest to write. He set Sirius's aside and glanced over Ron's before folding it neatly.  
  
Ron,  
How've you been? I'm writing to tell you many things. To begin, I'll  
say that you can stop bugging your mum about letting me stay over. I'm  
currently residing with Hermione. Why? Because for some odd and un-  
known reason, the Dursleys threw me out. Absolutely no warning. I was  
just standing in the kitchen and Uncle Vernon appears, drags me up the   
stairs, then drags me and all my stuff back down the stairs and throws me  
outside. It's probably the best thing the Dursleys have ever done for me.  
I'll have to remember to write a thank-you note.  
Hermione found me and this is when things get weird. Apparently, she  
knew the Dursleys were going to throw me out because she had this vision.  
The vision led her right to the park where she found me. To top it all off, we  
are both having the same nightmares at the same times. Needless to say,   
this is all extremely unsettling. I'm writing to Sirius about it. Hopefully him  
or Dumbledore will have some explanation.   
Well, I hope your summer's going better than mine. Maybe I'll see you  
soon.  
  
--Harry  
  
Harry nodded to himself and folded the letter up, deciding it was satisfactory. There were a few conventional errors, but Harry ignored them-he was only sending it to Ron after all. Ron wouldn't give a garden gnome whether or not Harry had spelled everything right. He doubted Ron would catch any mistakes he might have made anyway.   
  
He turned his focus to Sirius's letter, the more difficult of the two. He'd already edited this one and scanned it again, more slowly than he had Ron's.  
  
Dear Sirius,  
The Dursleys have kicked me out. I'm living with Hermione right now, and  
her parents say it's all right if I remain here for the duration of the summer. I'm  
sorry to say it, but I told you it was a bad idea to send me to them! Besides that,  
Hermione and I are dealing with being together just fine, so you need not worry  
about that.   
I do have a question, though. Hermione's having these odd visions-she   
said she saw the Dursleys kick me out during one of these. That's how she  
found me in the park afterwards. We're also having the same nightmares at the  
same times. Care to shed some light on the situation? Does Dumbledore?  
  
Thanks,  
Harry   
  
Harry shrugged, feeling that though it wasn't his best work, it would suffice. He was, after all, sleep deprived. Writing didn't come easily to him at the best of times-let alone after a whole night without sleep. Besides that, he didn't want to sound too worried, and he came off sounding pretty passive and unruffled in the letter. He tied both notes to Hedwig's leg and told her to whom they went. She hooted reassuringly and nipped his finger affectionately before swooping out Harry's window and into the gray sky of dawn.  
  
He settled himself down on his bed once more and lay staring at the ceiling for several minutes, contemplating the events of the past two days. So many questions remained. Why had the Dursleys kicked him out so suddenly and without notice? What was going on with Hermione? Why was he the only one Hermione could talk to? Hopefully the days ahead would bring answers to at least a few of these.  
  
He heard footsteps outside the door and a man's loud yawn. Harry glanced at his watch. Ten past seven. Hermione's parents were getting up. Harry struggled wearily to his feet and stumbled over to his trunk. The fatigue that he'd been fighting for so many hours was catching up to him and his eyelids felt heavy. His every movement was slow and groggy. Seeing his own haphazard movement in the small mirror that hung over the dresser, he had to admit that he somewhat resembled what Crabbe and Goyle looked like on any given day.  
  
Harry pulled on some baggy jeans and a large t-shirt and attempted to use his fingers to make his hair lay flat and straight. It had grown very long over the past few months and for the first time since Harry could remember, he was actually beginning to see it do what he wanted it to. It no longer stuck out in every direction, instead staying flat to his head for the most part. It was a welcome change.  
  
Once he'd slipped on his socks, he walked down the stairs, feet dragging. He found the Grangers where he'd left them the night before-in the kitchen. Mr. Granger was squinting wearily through small reading glasses at the newspaper and Mrs. Granger was setting out some eggs. Both appeared quite stunned to see him appear there and he began to feel a bit self-conscious. Normally he was ignored when he walked into a room, not stared at.  
  
"Harry!" cried Mrs. Granger. "Oh, dear, you don't have to be up so early. Head on back up to bed if you're still tired."  
  
Mr. Granger looked at Harry and gave him a small smile. "You didn't sleep last night," he stated as though it were the most normal thing in the world. Harry shook his head a bit sheepishly. "And Hermione? I suppose she's still up in her room pretending to be asleep as well? I doubt she's gotten a full night's sleep in months." Mr. Granger's tone had changed from mildly amused to wistful.  
  
"Actually, she dozed off sometime around five a.m.," stated Harry. "I imagine she's still asleep, with Crookshanks right on top of her. It's a sight that crosses between cute and hilarious. It's rather funny to see that devil cat curled up on top of her like any regular cat. It actually looks peaceful for once. I couldn't fall asleep, so I just decided to wake up. The Dursleys would normally force me up around this time anyway. Not that they've had to this summer-I can assure you I've been getting no more sleep than Hermione has."  
  
Harry helped Mrs. Granger prepare breakfast until Hermione arrived sometime around nine. She looked tired, but oddly relaxed, quite the contrary to how she'd looked last night-tense and jumpy. She noticed that the circles under Harry's eyes were so dark they looked black and every part of him seemed to ooze exhaustion. "You look terrible," she told him good-naturedly.  
  
"And I can assure you, you look no better," said Harry cheerfully, though he was at a loss to explain where his sudden burst of calm happiness came from. Feeling a sudden urge to do what he'd done last night and make her laugh, he flicked his wrist and tossed the pancake he'd been cooking high into the air. He made a big show of being terrified he was about to drop it and managing to catch it at the last second.  
  
Hermione had to smile at Harry's goofy mood as he flipped the pancakes in the pan over the stove. "Stop impersonating Fred and George. It doesn't become you," she teased. She was completely unaware of the shocked looks she was getting from her parents.  
  
"Hermione, you do seem better today," said her mother in surprise, smiling at her daughter.  
  
Harry watched as Hermione's defensive barriers seemed to reconstruct in seconds. Her smile vanished and she sat down across from her father, shrugging a little. "I guess," she muttered.  
  
Just as fast as Harry's good mood had come, it disappeared, leaving him feeling strangely hollow. It seemed that he was the only one Hermione was willing to show any emotion to. He was the only one she would talk to. Thinking about it, that did make some sort of sense. He had been right beside her for much of her ordeal. It made sense that she'd want someone who understood. It still hurt Harry to see her revert back to the quiet shell he'd managed to bring her out of.  
  
A heavy, tense atmosphere hung over them all as they ate their breakfast. Hermione finished and announced she was going back upstairs. Harry washed his hands and followed her a few minutes later. He knocked on her door and entered when she allowed him to. She was just opening the book she'd borrowed from him.  
  
"Hey," he said casually, though it felt horribly insignificant.   
  
"Hello," she replied, not really looking at him.  
  
"Okay, I'll cut to the chase, Herm," he said, making her look up. "Are you going to spend your life sitting up here? It's a nice day out. Don't you want to go and do something? Let's face it, there's not much to do in here."  
  
Hermione appeared torn. She looked from him to her window and back again. "I don't know," she murmured. "I'm sort of interested in this book and . . . it is summer, there will be other nice days . . ."  
  
"The book can wait just as much as the day can. You'll have plenty of time to read, but the day won't last forever. And the book will stay the same-there may be other days, but none will be exactly like this one."  
  
"And what's so special about this one?" asked Hermione.  
  
"How will we know unless we go and find out?" countered Harry.   
  
He could see she was beginning to relent, but it appeared she wasn't going to give up this fight without throwing out every possible excuse for why she shouldn't go. "Be that as it may, we need to study," she stated matter-of-factly. "O.W.L.s take place just two weeks after we arrive at Hogwarts. We can't fail them! We'll be forced back to fifth year."  
  
Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. "Give it a rest, Hermione. We don't go back to Hogwarts for two months. Two months! And it's not as though we've got other homework to conflict with studying. Be honest-have you studied at all before now?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "That's the point!"  
  
Harry just raised his eyebrows at her. For a moment, the two stared at each other, Harry with what he hoped to be a cute, begging expression on his face and Hermione with a torn, uncertain look on hers. Finally, Hermione slammed the book shut next to her with a loud clap, making Crookshanks jump. "Oh, fine!" she agreed, her tone annoyed, but her face relaying a slight smile. "But if we fail our O.W.L.s because you wanted a field day, I will never forgive you."  
  
Harry snorted. "You're not in danger of failing. You could not study at all and still manage passing marks. That's just the way you are. It's me who'll get thrown back. So come on."  
  
Hermione stood and tucked her wand into her deep pocket, leaving only the barest tip exposed, which was promptly covered by her shirt. She muttered about Harry missing the point, making his smile widen. He wasn't sure how he was doing it, but somehow, Hermione seemed to be returning to herself before his eyes. He could still see a jaded, haunted look in her eyes, not too different the one he saw in Sirius's. However, he somehow had an odd effect on her-whenever he was around, she seemed better, a lot like her old self. She was so different when she was around her parents-quiet and withdrawn. He felt a nice sensation whenever he was in her company as well. Though he'd never taken everything that had happened as hard as she had, and he'd managed to return to relatively normal after a few weeks, he'd never been completely the same. The memories haunted him, changing him subtly whether he felt it or not. Being around Hermione made him feel happy and lighthearted-those were two things he'd certainly never felt since leaving Hogwarts.  
  
Hermione was already dressed so the two slipped their shoes on and headed down the stairs. When they went to tell her parents they were leaving for a while, he could feel the change in Hermione almost as though it were he himself that were changing. He could feel her close up like a flower in the dark. Her parents appeared even more shocked than they had that morning when Harry announced they were going out.   
  
The day outside was as beautiful as the view from the window had promised. The sun shone merrily down, making it warm, but not hot. A gentle breeze lapped at their faces, blowing their hair in wispy storms around their faces. The sky was bright blue, with no clouds in sight, not even fluffy white ones. Harry and Hermione walked in silence, but it was a companionable silence much different from the one they'd experienced at breakfast that morning. Harry felt all his worries abandon him, leaving him with a light, free feeling.   
  
He wasn't sure what made him do it, but before he could stop himself, he took Hermione's hand. A moment later he felt a few of his worries return and suddenly wanted his smack himself. Was he insane? Yes, he still liked her-now more than ever, probably. But now wasn't the time to show that, not when she was still hurting. In the midst of all these thoughts questions screaming inside his brain, it took him a while to notice Hermione had not pulled away.  
  
"So," said Harry, breaking the easy silence, "are you still capable of saying that you'd rather be studying?"  
  
"This is nice," she relented, not really answering his question directly. Harry could see the answer written on her face, though, deep within her blissful expression. "I'm glad I'm out in the sunshine again."  
  
They lapsed once more into the silence which both felt more comfortable with. They had no destination. They were about to pass the park when Harry stopped, looking in. He looked back at Hermione and shrugged. "Want to go there?"  
  
"I like it here," she agreed, but she was eyeing him oddly. With a hint of amusement, she said, "I just thought you'd had enough of parks yesterday."  
  
Harry shrugged again. "Well, it's better than the street. Let's go there, if you want to."  
  
Hermione agreed and the two headed into the park. It was much larger than the park in which he'd fallen asleep the previous day. There was a baseball diamond and some elaborate playing structures for younger kids. There was also a pond some ways in, to which Hermione led Harry. It was surrounded by circular bushes with a small entrance. The pond was clear and cool with colorful stones in the bottom. There was a bench on one side and Harry noticed a slight smile on Hermione's face as she began to speak.  
  
"This is where I come sometimes," she said. "It's been my favorite spot since I was little. We've lived here all my life and I discovered this when I was eight, I think."  
  
"It's nice," agreed Harry. "I would definitely not object to spending my time here. Too bad I didn't have one like this over by the Dursleys-I'd have spent a lot of time there." He laughed at the concerned expression on her face as they both sat down on the bench. "Don't worry about me. The Dursleys were awful, yeah, but it's over now. They've kicked me out-which has been my dearest wish for as long as I can remember. I never have to go back. Best birthday present I've ever gotten!"  
  
Hermione nodded and then seemed to realize something. "Your birthday! It's only in a couple of weeks, right?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah." He shrugged. "Don't bother doing anything about it. Your family has done more than enough for me already. If anything, I should be throwing you the party." He quieted and decided to change the subject. "We've talked about the Dursleys enough, as far as I'm concerned. I intend to forget them as promptly as possible. What have you been doing this summer?"   
  
"Nothing, really," said Hermione, smile vanishing. Her eyes were focused on a small, buzzing dragonfly that hovered over the surface of the pond. She bit her lip, apparently conflicted about something. Harry watched silently, allowing her time to consider whatever was troubling her. Finally, she looked over to him. "To be honest, Harry, I've rarely said a word since the summer began. I've hardly left my room. Everything that used to seem normal suddenly seems horribly inadequate. It's like I'm seeing the world in a completely different light. I haven't been this open with anyone in months. I don't know what it is about you, Harry, but I can talk to you, whereas I can't to anyone else. I still feel different, but it helps that you're here. It helps more than you can know."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the arrival of two people in the small clearing. He stopped for the sake of not wanting to say anything in front of strangers. He noticed the two people for the first time. The men were tall and tough looking, with spiked hair and chains. They looked to be about nineteen. One was holding a switchblade-and was heading right for Harry and Hermione.  
  
Harry jumped to his feet and stood in front of Hermione, who was now rising to her feet as well. Harry felt small and weak without his wand. The boy holding the knife didn't stop and continued forward. He grabbed Harry and shoved him to the ground. The other boy did the same to Hermione.  
  
Harry was unsure of what to think. Thoughts chased themselves around his brain as he struggled and yelled. He was cut off abruptly when he felt the cold steel of the knife against the back of his neck. He froze.   
  
A laugh came from behind him. "That's right, four-eyes, stop if you want to live," he said, a distinct American accent tinting his words. "Just tell me if you got any cash and we'll be on our way."  
  
"We don't have anything!" cried Harry. He was afraid, but he fought the fear down, knowing that panicking could not help him. "Check if you want, but you won't find anything."  
  
"That I will," snapped the boy, jerking Harry upward so that he was now on his knees. The boy felt his pockets, but, true to Harry's word, found nothing. He swore and shoved Harry forward. "Paul, check the girl," he snarled, sounding very angry.  
  
"Leave her alone," growled Harry, "she hasn't got anything either! We were taking a walk-we didn't come loaded."  
  
"Don't get smart," he snarled. "If you're lying, I'll kill her, so you might want to rephrase that if you are."  
  
Harry remained silent, his heart thudding in his chest. He couldn't see Hermione from his current position, but knew the second boy was going through the same routine with her-checking all her pockets for money.  
  
"What's this?"   
  
Harry jerked his head over, confused at what had been found. The boy holding him was too distracted by his partner's findings to stop Harry from looking. Harry felt his heart stop and could see the horrified look on Hermione's face. The boy was holding her wand.  
  
"Now why would a teenage girl carry a stick in her pocket, but not any cash?" snarled the boy holding the wand, speaking with no accent.  
  
The boy holding Harry shoved him to the ground. Harry was on his feet in an instant as the boy crossed over to his friend. He took the wand and examined it. Harry watched as realization dawned. "Paul, this is no stick. It's one of the things those freaks on the news have been using to kill people. She's one of the freaks!" His head swiveled to look at Harry, his eyes narrowed. "And so's he. Only one thing to do with freaks like you." He pulled out the switchblade.  
  
Harry could only react as Paul made a motion to slash Hermione with the knife that he had positioned at her throat and as the boy holding Hermione's wand came at him. He leaped, tackling Paul to the ground. His knife flew out of his hand and Harry suddenly found himself in the middle of a ball of fists. Paul was attacking him brutally and it was all Harry could do to defend himself. Physical fighting was not his strong point and he wished desperately for his own wand.  
  
Hermione jumped to her feet the second Harry had tackled her attacker. The other boy, the one that had been holding Harry came for her, but she dodged. In one swift movement, she had grabbed her wand from his hand and pointed it at him. "Stop," she called, her voice echoing powerfully over them all.   
  
Paul detached himself from Harry and went to stand by his partner. Harry continued to lay on the ground, coughing. He was bloodied, but watched the scene before him as though he didn't notice at all.   
  
"Get out," ordered Hermione. "And don't tell a soul what happened here."  
  
"You wouldn't," dared the first boy, stepping forward. He still held the knife. "You're too chicken."  
  
Hermione's hand was steady and Harry saw a look in her eyes that he'd never seen before. He knew she would hurt him-and badly. Before, every time they'd been in a fight with magic, Hermione had been hesitant to use offensive spells. He'd never seen her look so serious.  
  
"One more step and you'll find out," Hermione warned. "Drop the knife."  
  
He laughed and rushed her suddenly. "Jevolosia!" she cried and the boy went soaring backwards just as quickly as he had come forward. He flew high over the bushes and continued on until he hit the trunk of a tree and slid down to the ground, moaning. Paul looked at her in terror and took off running, pushing his way right through the bushes to escape.   
  
Hermione's hand slowly lowered as she watched him retreat, pulling an injured friend with him. When she was certain they would stay away, she came to Harry's side. He was already standing and backing towards the exit of the circular stand of shrubs.  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked. He had a bruise forming on his left cheek and a bloody nose, but he didn't appear too badly hurt.   
  
"Yeah," he muttered, still staring at where the boys had disappeared. "Let's get out of here. Someone was bound to have seen that and this is definitely not a good time to be seen doing magic by Muggles."  
  
Hermione blanched. "You're right," she whispered. "And I did magic outside of school. What if they expel me?"  
  
"Not now," said Harry, grabbing her arm and pulling her along. "We can't talk now. We have to get out of this park."  
  
Several people stared at them as they ran through the park, some running away and Harry knew in that instant that they had indeed been seen. He felt like he'd swallowed a rock that was now weighing him down from the pit of his stomach. Once they were back on the sidewalk, they continued to run for a couple of blocks before slowing to a walk.  
  
Harry looked over at Hermione. She was still very white and was holding her wand in her hands very tightly, staring at it. He noticed for the first time the line of blood specks on her neck. "You're bleeding," he said, looking closer.  
  
She put her hand to her throat and pulled it away again. Sure enough, there was a small amount of red on it. For the first time, she noticed it was stinging. "I suppose he managed to cut me a little bit before you tackled him," she said. "It's not deep, just a scratch." He could see tears in her eyes as she looked to him. "How can Muggles act so horribly towards us?" she asked. "They don't even give us a chance . . ."  
  
"Yeah," said Harry bitterly.   
  
"They don't just discriminate-they try to kill us!" she sobbed, and he noticed she was shaking. Her first time really outside the house all summer and this happens, thought Harry sadly. This should certainly encourage her to go out more often.  
  
Harry could think of nothing to say to her horribly accurate statement, instead choosing to put his arm around her and walk silently back to her house. They walked slowly, but reached her house quickly.   
  
Harry closed the door quietly when they entered, but in the warm silence of the day, the door closing echoed loudly despite his efforts. Mr. Granger appeared a second later, wearing a smile that vanished the moment he saw his daughter's shaken state and Harry's bloodied face. He rushed forward. "What happened?" he asked anxiously, looking his Hermione over carefully and noticing the blood on her neck. "Are you okay?"  
  
Harry cast a weary look at the inviting couch, but remained standing. He was covered in dirt and grass and didn't want to soil their living room. Instead, he remained standing as he told the tale.   
When he'd finished, Mr. Granger wore a look of anger. "Bloody teenage gang members," he growled, gently pushing Hermione onto a seat by the counter and leading Harry firmly to the sink, dampening a rag to wipe off the drying blood.   
  
"It's not just the gang members," muttered Harry, taking the rag from Hermione's father and beginning to clean himself up. "It's Muggles in general-no offense to you, of course. They're attacking us. A lot of wizards have been hurt or killed by Muggles."  
  
Mr. Granger nodded grimly. He was now sitting by Hermione and helping her get the blood off her neck. "I'm aware. I've been seeing the news reports. It's disgusting. Our television went out a few days ago-that's where Cecile is now, in fact, getting the part we need for it. It's been a nice break. We don't give anyone a chance. It's embarrassing to say I'm one of them."  
  
"You're not," insisted Hermione, speaking up for the first time. "You may be a Muggle, but you aren't one of them because you aren't going around and attacking and killing witches and wizards. That makes a difference, Dad."  
  
"Doesn't feel like it," said Daniel Granger sorrowfully, squeezing Hermione's shoulder. "But I have to say one thing-I'm beginning to think even your mother will be reconsidering not letting you go back to Hogwarts. Not after something like this. You were right, sweetheart-it is just as dangerous here."  
  
Harry, though he had no idea what was going on in this respect, saw the flash of hope in Hermione's eyes and inferred the point of this conversation. He rushed to add another defense in Hermione's favor. "Especially if we make the evening news, which I have a terrible feeling we will."  
  
Hermione moaned at this thought and put her face in her arms. "If I'm not expelled already," she muttered, her words so muffled they were barely audible.  
  
"You won't be," said Harry, taking a seat across from her and setting down the rag. "Look at me-I've done accidental magic or magic to defend myself when there was no other choice before. I'm still at Hogwarts, aren't I?"  
  
"You're Harry Potter," she said dryly. "Everyone makes allowances for you. I'm just like any other student. They won't do the same for me."  
  
"You are not like any other student. You're the one being given all the credit for taking down Voldemort. I'm willing to bet you're currently rivaling me in the fame category. Besides that, you did it to save our lives and you're Hogwarts' top student. You'll be let back in. Maybe you'll be given a warning, but nothing more. Dumbledore is Headmaster and Fudge is out of office. You'll be fine."  
  
Hermione nodded, though she still looked a little sick and uneasy. She stood, looking a bit pale and nodded toward the stairs. "I think I'll go to my room." She walked out without another word and Harry could feel the distinct walls she'd put up yet again. He let out a loud sigh and banged his head gently on the table. He'd been making such progress with her and now they were back to base one all because of a pair of ignorant Muggles. He wasn't annoyed so much as disappointed.  
  
Almost as though he could read Harry's mind, Mr. Granger patted him on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad, son. This may have made her more despondent again, but I haven't seen her this open since the summer before her fifth year. I'm glad you're here. You're really helping her."  
  
Harry looked up, surprised. "How'd you know I was thinking that?"  
  
Mr. Granger gave him a small smile and rose to his feet. "Your comment last night, along with the fact that I've been trying to bring her out of her shell for months. I know the feeling. Hopefully you'll succeed where I couldn't."  
  
Any further conversation was cut off by the abrupt arrival of Hermione's mother. She set a small bag on the counter and looked to Harry and her husband, worry in her every feature. "I've heard they're telling more tales," she said in disgust. "Apparently there's a new rumor spreading-a couple of wizards who nearly killed two teenagers. The lies are making me sick."  
  
Mr. Granger winced a bit and looked sideways at Harry who was already beginning to edge toward the door. Mrs. Granger saw the look and her eyes narrowed. "What?"  
  
Harry exited quickly before the explanations started again. He bounded up the stairs and headed toward his temporary room. Hermione's door was shut and he considered knocking on it, but thought better of it. Let her have her space. He wasn't going to help her by closing her in.  
  
He locked himself in his own room and opened the window to air out the stuffy atmosphere. He sat down on his bed and picked up a book off his table, intending to read it, to do something to get his mind off the day's events. His attempt failed and he soon found his eyes roaming pages and taking nothing in while his thoughts roamed the empty plains of answers. He thought that leaving the Dursleys for the last time would be the best thing to ever happen to him. That had happened and all that had come of it was more questions than he had ever imagined he'd have to deal with. Everything seemed to be a mystery with no solution. And in the midst of it all, he had also found a feeling of complete and utter content. The difference in emotions was messing with his head, confusing him.  
  
He set the book down, realizing he'd read the same page four times without understanding a single word. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. There was no point in pondering these questions on no sleep. While he dreaded what would come in his dreams-particularly if Hermione was dreaming as well-he could no longer fight off his exhaustion. He collapsed into unconsciousness. 


	7. Destiny's Escalations 2

A/n: *Looks around warily* Um, hello everyone! I know it's been forever since I've updated-I'm well aware. I apologize profusely in every way I know how. I've been swamped with schoolwork. Anyway, Destiny's Shadows is back, and I have a lot planned! I promise to be consistent in my updates from now on. In response to a review I got for the last chapter-I did not mean to offend anyone by making one of the bullies an American. I'm a faithful American myself. He simply wandered into my head like that and I didn't have the heart to change him. I'm sorry if I accidentally offended anyone out there. Anyway, last time I only got three reviews. Please, get me four or more this time! :-)   
  
Destiny's Escalations 2  
  
Harry awoke a long time later to darkness. He turned his face to the side and looked out the open window. The golden sun had been replaced by a silver half-moon and diamond stars. He realized he could see this all clearly and felt at his face to find that he'd slept in his glasses. He pulled them off, noticing their crooked state. Wonderful, he thought in mild annoyance. I'll have to wear them like this until Hogwarts is back in session and I can do magic.  
  
He sat up, yawning. Though his eyelids were still a bit heavy, he felt much more rested than he had before. He felt relieved at the realization that he had not had any nightmares. He glanced at his wristwatch to see it was half past eight. Taming his hair with his hands, smoothing his wrinkled clothes, and replacing the uneven glasses back on the bridge of his nose, he headed out into the hall. Hermione's door was open and her room was vacant.   
  
He walked quietly down the stairs. Hermione, at the very least, was still awake. He doubted her parents would be asleep. He headed into the living room, feeling that someone would probably be in there. His assumption was correct. As soon as he walked in, he saw Hermione laying on the couch, an open book in her hands. The television was on behind her with the sound low, but it was apparent that she was not watching it.   
  
"Hey," he said quietly, but his voice was loud enough to get her attention.   
  
She looked up, surprised and gave him her usual half-smile. "Hello," she replied. "You've been asleep for hours. I'm glad at least one of us can get a fairly average amount of sleep."  
  
He walked over and Hermione sat up, allowing him room to sit beside her. "You could have taken a nap, too. I don't always have nightmares-you didn't earlier. You have to risk it eventually."  
  
"I've been thinking about that, about the nightmares we've been having. It never seems that we have a nightmare when the other isn't asleep. Odd, isn't it?"  
  
Harry realized she was correct. He'd been awake that morning when she'd slept, and she'd been awake all day while he'd rested. Of course, she'd been having nightmares over the summer when he hadn't, but at least that shed some sort of light into the shadows. He nodded. "You could be right. Maybe at Hogwarts we can look up stuff like this in the books. And Ron and Sirius should be getting back to me soon. Speaking of Hogwarts, what was going on earlier?"  
  
Hermione grimaced. "My parents. They don't want me returning to Hogwarts. They feel it to be too dangerous after what happened and no matter what I do to convince them that Voldemort's now gone, they won't be shot down. My mum is the ringleader. Dad is worried for me, but he feels that I should be able to do what I enjoy and knows that Hogwarts is what I love. He doesn't want to take anymore away from me than I've already lost, he says. Mum won't hear of it though." She gave him a wry smile. "Not until about an hour ago, anyway. After she heard what happened today and after hours upon hours of Dad working with her, they've agreed to let me return."  
  
Harry grinned and patted her shoulder. "Great. Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without you always nagging Ron and I to do our work and not copy. It would be a lot more peaceful . . ." He laughed to show he was joking and was surprised that she swung a pillow over to hit him. She really was opening up.   
  
Just as he was raising his arms to fend off her next blow, his eye caught the TV screen and he stopped still, staring, his smile gone. Hermione froze as well, looking over. She looked grim and grabbed the remote, turning up the volume, for his benefit apparently as she didn't pay much attention. "They've been playing it all night," she informed him. "It was the straw that broke Mum's back, you might say. What made her finally relent and let me return."  
  
Harry watched as a far away shot of Hermione throwing the boy from the park against a tree played. He could see himself there as well. They cut immediately to an announcer. "This is the newest in a line of amazingly shocking footage of a brutal attack upon two teenage boys today by none other than two wizards. The boys have spoken to us, saying-quote-'We were just walking along when they attacked us! Threw me against a tree with their magic!' It is quite apparent that these attacks are becoming more and more violent and unprovoked. We do appear to be in quite a predicament."  
  
"Why are they talking like it's so definite that we're wizards? Before it was just a strong speculation," asked Harry to Hermione. If possible, her expression became even grimmer, all traces of the playfulness she'd had a moment ago long vanished.  
  
"Not anymore," she said. "Apparently the new Minister of Magic, Harold Burns, talked to the Prime Minister recently."  
  
Harry winced. "Sirius said that was planned. How did it go? I'm guessing not well."  
  
She shook her head. "Not at all. He didn't speak to him so much as threatened him. Said he'd have the wizards attack the Muggles if he didn't hush up all this media hype. Of course the man had a press conference as soon as Burns left. Now everyone knows. It's war, Harry. The Muggles are already speaking of it and it's no question that if Burns was that way to the Prime Minister, he'll be the same way to all Muggles."  
  
Harry sat back, sighing. "Wonderful, more good news," he muttered. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. In the midst of the worries now plaguing him, he couldn't help but admit that he felt content sitting there, even after such horrible news. He'd been with the Grangers for one day now and still he felt more at home and much more welcome than he ever had with the Dursleys.  
  
"That's not all," added Hermione hesitantly. When he didn't move, she continued. "They've issued a warrant for the immediate arrest of all citizens accused of being wizards or harboring wizards. We're in trouble, Harry. People will recognize us. We can't go out of the house. If they find us-which inevitably they will-they'll arrest my parents and take us into custody. Mum and Dad are on the front porch talking about it right now."  
  
Something clicked in Harry's mind and he sat up. "The Dursleys," he said. "I'll bet they found out that anyone harboring a wizard was to be arrested. They wouldn't want to be taken into custody, so they threw me out the second they heard. It's probably why Aunt Petunia shrieked before Uncle Vernon nearly broke the door down to drag me out of the house." He thought about the second part of what she'd said. "So what are we going to do?"  
  
Hermione just shook her head, looking bleak. "I don't know. They think we're going to have to leave here. Our faces have been seen. They'll track us down and take us. My parents don't know where to send us."  
  
Harry considered and immediately thought of Ron. "Ron's," he said simply. "You know Mrs. Weasley-she'd be happy to take us. And they helped your parents so your Mum and Dad won't have a problem with them."  
  
Hermione looked hesitant. "I don't know. I thought of it, but . . . I just wouldn't want to be around so many people. I'm hardly comfortable around my own parents."  
  
"You're comfortable with me," he said gently. "Maybe you will be with Ron and his family too. You won't know unless you try."  
  
"You're different, Harry," she said vaguely. "I don't know why, but the second I saw you, I could feel that you were different. There's just something about you I'm okay with. Something I can allow myself to open up to. I know-completely and undoubtedly-that I would not be able to do the same with another person. Besides, you said the Weasleys didn't have the money to take you let alone the both of us."  
  
Hermione's last comment hit him and he sighed, sitting back. That was true. He considered her other words. He felt the same way about her, though to a slightly different effect. He didn't have a problem opening up to other people, but he knew that he felt more comfortable with Hermione than he ever had with anyone before. He felt a complete trust, an unbreakable bond had formed between the two of them and he knew she felt it too. He could feel her certainty of this just as strongly as he could feel his own.  
  
He settled back into his thoughts. He remembered staying at the Leaky Cauldron in the summer before his third year, but he quickly dismissed this as a possibility. If Hermione would feel uncomfortable around the Weasley family, who were their friends, then she would certainly feel the same there around hundreds of strangers. Not to mention the fact that her parents would almost certainly not allow it. That left him with one last idea, his only hope.  
  
"Sirius," he said. "Dumbledore's hideout. It's where Sirius is staying with Lupin, Dumbledore, and that Fletcher guy. Probably Professor Figg, too, as she's moved out of her house near the Dursleys'. I stayed there the first couple of days of the summer. It's not so bad. Kind of small and hidden away, but that's what we need, isn't it?"  
  
Hermione looked torn. "I guess," she said slowly. "It does appear to be our only option. I wouldn't mind being around Sirius or Professor Lupin or Dumbledore. The only other option is being sent to one of my relatives and that's not what I want."  
  
"Do you want to suggest it to your parents?" he asked. "I could if you want me to."  
  
She shook her head and stood, looking quiet and withdrawn again. "No, that's fine. I need some air anyway. Why don't you head upstairs and I'll meet you up there?" With that, she turned and left the room.   
  
Harry bounded back up the stairs and into his room. The second he reached the doorway, he stopped still, his eyes bulging. Crookshanks was standing on Harry's bed, eyeing Hedwig who was sitting perched on the windowsill. Harry rushed forward, grabbing Crookshanks around the middle before he could lunge at his owl. Crookshanks hissed and clawed at him and by the time Harry had set him down in the hallway and closed the door, his arms were covered in bloody, stinging scratches from the cat's vicious claws. Hedwig hooted in a regal way as the door closed as though to say, Good riddance.  
  
Harry walked quickly over to her, wincing as he looked over his tattered arms. He pulled the letter off of her leg and sat on his bed, opening it. Ron's untidy scrawl was on the front. He pulled the letter out and read it quickly.  
  
Harry,  
  
Merlin, does your life ever settle down? Not to be rude, I actually feel quite  
  
sorry for you in that respect. They kicked you out of the house? Those bloody  
  
Muggles! You are all right, aren't you? How is Hermione handling everything?  
  
Hedwig got here very quickly. Guess Hermione's house isn't that far from the  
  
Burrow.   
  
What happened with those Muggles?! It's all over their news, pal. They  
  
are completely blowing it out of proportion-making it sound like you murdered   
  
the guy. The Minister of Magic is pressing for war harder than ever. Need-  
  
less to say, this is not good. The Daily Prophet is enclosed with two articles  
  
you should be interested in seeing. One's about your encounter with the Mug-  
  
gles and the other is . . . something you need to see. It appears that with the  
  
passing of one year, Rita Skeeter is back at it. So much for breaking her habit  
  
of writing awful stories. She's targeting Hermione now. Personally, I still think  
  
Hermione would have been better off squashing Rita the Beetle under her shoe.  
  
What is this about weird dreams? That doesn't sound too normal. I've def-  
  
initely never heard of it before. Hope you find your answer elsewhere, because  
  
I don't know.   
  
Good to hear from you and I'm sorry for all the trouble. Tell Hermione hello for  
  
me.  
  
-Ron  
  
Harry picked up the envelope and pulled out the two newspaper clippings he hadn't noticed the first time. He was hesitant to read them-particularly Rita Skeeter's-but he knew that no good would come in keeping himself ignorant to such events. He unfolded the one about the encounter between he and Hermione and the Muggles.  
  
Young heroes Harry Potter and Hermione Granger encounter Muggle trouble  
  
Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, two of the most famous wizards in the history of our world encountered difficulty earlier today with a pair of Muggle teenagers. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Hermione Granger, the girl who just months ago helped Potter destroy the Dark Lord permanently, are being charged by Muggle law enforcement officers with the attempted murder of Karl Ross and Paul MacDougal. Our Ministry is currently sending officials from the Department of Mysteries to look into the case, though it is common consensus that the two children are not responsible for the said act. It is being made out as a case of self-defense in which the Muggles attacked them, which is being verified by Martha Persel, an elderly witch who witnessed the scene earlier. Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has gone on record saying firmly that neither of the two were on the offensive. Sirius Black, Potter's godfather and former Azkaban prisoner who was wrongly convicted, has also spoken to a few of our reporters, saying fiercely, "Harry and Hermione are at fault for nothing that happened. You all leave them alone. They've been through enough without your sharks bothering them with things that aren't their fault."   
  
Harry's emotions were mixed as he finished reading the article. He was happy that the wizarding community didn't blame him for this and was glad that Dumbledore and Sirius were aware of the situation. Once again he felt anxious at just how slow owl post was. He wouldn't have wanted to have to send Sirius a letter notifying him of these recent developments.   
  
Hesitantly, he began to unfold the other paper, uncertain of what would lay ahead. Anything was possible with Rita Skeeter-but he knew that this article would certainly be particularly nasty. She couldn't be happy with Hermione for trapping her as a bug and blackmailing her, then halting her career for a year. Now that she was back, she would make every accusation she could and hurl them all Hermione's way. Though Hermione had not been particularly worried about Rita's last article about her, she was in a much more fragile state now. No telling what another event--in only two days already piled with enough confusion to last a year--would do.   
  
He was spared the immediate pain of reading Rita's article by Hermione's knock. "Come in," he called after a moment where his heart jumped at a sudden noise in the silence. She entered and he looked back at her, quickly hiding the newspaper clipping. He was not fast enough to evade her eyes and she narrowed them at Harry.   
  
"What?" she asked. Her voice had an edge to it that warned him not to lie to her.   
  
"Nothing," said Harry, but his voice was high-pitched and he'd replied too quickly.   
  
"Just let me see the newspaper article," she sighed, sitting down. "It can't be that bad and I'm not in the mood for wrestling you."  
  
Harry's desire to hide the article from her was suspended temporarily by his shock. He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Okay, I can see how you'd see I was hiding a paper from you, but how could you tell it was a newspaper article? It was folded!"  
  
Hermione stared at him, her face a mirror of his. "I . . . I don't know . . ." she whispered. She looked quite stunned. After a moment of brow-furrowing thought, she paled more. "The article is from Rita Skeeter."  
  
Harry was beyond shocked and into worried. Hermione was far beyond worried, this odd encounter quite reminiscent of her visions the previous day. "I knew that," she said, her voice heightening in panic with each word. "I knew it was from her! I didn't guess, I knew-like I'd read her name already! How did I know, Harry? How did I know that?"  
  
It was obvious that Hermione's resolve had worn out and she was dissolving. Everything had become too much for her too quickly. He knew she'd been struggling coming to grips with the events of the past year, then all the events of the past two days had been thrown at her with no time in between to consider them, to cope. Every last bit of strength to hold out had been slowly destroyed with the days' events, and her last bit had just been smashed.   
  
"Calm down. It's okay. I don't understand this anymore than you do, but it will be okay. I'll stay with you through whatever comes, I promise." He wasn't sure what else to say.  
  
His words didn't seem to do much to calm her, but after a few seconds, she regained her composure. "I'm sorry for that . . . everything's just gotten to be too much for me I suppose."   
  
"Don't apologize," he said quietly. "It isn't your fault. None of this is your fault." He pulled out Rita Skeeter's article and she watched him with apprehension in her chocolate eyes. He folded it once more and set it on the table by his bed. "We won't bother with her tonight."  
  
"No," said Hermione, shaking her head. "Read it. Just get it over with. I don't want to be losing sleep over that awful woman. I should have just turned her in."  
  
Harry agreed on that point, but said nothing aloud. He picked up the article, sending her a questioning glance. It appeared she'd recovered some of her strength and she nodded determinedly. He unfolded it and displayed it for both of them to see.  
  
Hermione Granger: Hero or traitor?  
  
By this time, the story of Hermione Granger has become just about as famous as the story of Harry Potter himself, writes Rita Skeeter. Her name has certainly become as common as his. Her story is astounding and a true example of good surviving the harshest things life can throw its way to defeat evil in the end. During the days of terror that followed You-Know-Who's takeover of Hogwarts School, young Miss Granger's name was thrown to all sides of the board-from a brave soul fighting for the light side in the pits of the Dark Lord's ranks, to the traitorous Death Eater that helped betray the school. In the end, things were cleared up and Miss Granger was declared a hero when the real story came out. However, many questions still arise at the mention of these awe-inspiring events. There are so many things left unanswered and blank spots in a tale woven for us to believe. Any average person must ask themselves just how much of this story is true and how much is just that-a story. Dumbledore has refused adamantly to speak of it, as have all other members of Hogwarts staff that are informed of the events. Harry Potter has eluded media questioning by returning to his Muggle home and Ron Weasley, Miss Granger's other best friend and the only other living person with her through most of the ordeal, has on many times refused to comment, once even lashing out with a long string of insults for this reporter, many too colorful to repeat here. What is there to hide that no one dares speak of it? Perhaps they are covering for a darker story, one no one cares to let the media get wind of? Miss Granger bears the Dark Mark as any Death Eater does. True, it is said that she wears this mark because of her devotion to the Light side-a twisted play on words in this reporter's opinion-but can we trust that to be the truth? How do we know anything that has been spread to public ears is indeed true? For all the public knows, Miss Granger was once as much a Death Eater as any other. Perhaps in the end she switched over, but we have no proof to verify anything. No one questions the fact that Miss Granger is quite possibly one of the smartest students in Hogwarts history. It is not all that far fetched that she is still a Dark devotee, just as loyal to You-Know-Who as any of his other Death Eaters. She would have been intelligent enough to tell when the Dark Lord was losing the battle. Just as with You-Know-Who's reign sixteen years ago, she could be returning to the Light side with a made-up story to restore the status she'd destroyed by going over in the first place. It would most likely be in the best interests of Dumbledore, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and anyone else who knows anything concrete about this to step forward before these rumors-or possibly these truths-become too far out of hand to restrain.  
  
Harry felt his fists clench as he read the article and peered over at Hermione out of the corner of his eye wondering about her reaction. When she finished, she rolled her eyes, grabbed the article, smashed it in her fist, and threw it easily into the garbage can a few feet away.   
  
"She's so full of it," muttered Hermione, but she didn't seem particularly bothered.   
  
"Are you okay with that?" asked Harry hesitantly, watching cautiously for her reaction.   
  
"I don't really care," said Hermione honestly. "I know what happened and everyone who cares about me knows too. Everyone else can think what they want. Let them believe her or not. It's their choice and I don't particularly mind it. If they're thick enough to believe her, than they'll believe anything. Oh, sure, the first chance I get I'll turn Rita in to the Ministry about her being an Animagus, but in the mean time I don't intend to stay up late worrying over her petty revenge articles. I have much more important things to worry about."  
  
Harry looked at Hermione in admiration. He couldn't say he'd be this composed had the article been about him. He gave her a smile that relayed his thoughts and took her hand. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?"  
  
Hermione laughed ruefully. "I appreciate your compliment, but amazing is an adjective low on a list used to describe me."  
  
Harry shook his head, his facial expression completely serious. "No, I mean it. I've never met anyone who could go through as much as you have and still be able to survive. Certainly you have nightmares and get upset-anyone would. That doesn't make you any less courageous. People should look up to you a lot more than they look up to me. I'm not sure I could have handled all you have."  
  
She gave him a small, sad smile and looked down. "Of course you could have handled it, Harry. You've handled Voldemort before, so many times."  
  
"Hermione," said Harry with a sigh in his words. How could he make her see the truth? "Look at me." She didn't look up, so he gently put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up. She didn't fight him, though the oddness of the situation did hit her. "I may have come face to face with him before. I may have beaten him before. But never-never-have I ever survived through such seemingly impossible circumstances to finally destroy him entirely. Never have I dealt with the hardest, most terrifying things life could throw at me and still manage to be willing to return for one last suicidal battle with the madman who brought it all about. I don't know if I could have handled it. Maybe I could have, but there's an equal chance that I couldn't have. I know I couldn't have put aside my differences with Malfoy enough to work with him when I had no choice-I couldn't have done it under normal, everyday circumstances, let alone after what he did. You're stronger than me in a lot of ways, Hermione. And amazing is a perfect adjective to describe you."  
  
They looked at one another for a moment before Harry realized exactly what he was saying. Reality seemed to surge up and smack him in the face. He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks as he took his hand away from Hermione and determinedly focused his eyes on another part of the room. Now was not the time for this. The heat in his face was nearly unbearable and it was hard to think of time that he'd ever felt this embarrassed.  
  
Hermione watched him for a moment once he'd looked away. She could feel a jumble of feelings inside and she wasn't quite sure how to sort them out. Something had passed between them in that moment, something more than normal. For the first time, she'd felt something odd when he'd touched her. She wasn't sure what, but she had an idea: contentment. She wasn't sure how she felt about this, let alone what had brought it on. She'd never felt this way before. She forced herself to set it aside. She stood.   
  
"I think I'm going to turn in," she said. She bowed her head. "This could very well be the last night of the summer I spend here."  
  
Harry remembered suddenly that Hermione had gone down to speak with her parents about going to Sirius. "How did it go?" he asked.  
  
She shook her head and shrugged. "They said they'd consider it. It could go in any direction at this point. Why can't everything stay the same for even a little while? Just when I begin settling down here, I have to leave again. And now these strange visions and dreams . . . and how I knew about the newspaper article . . . is someone up there just determined to ruin my life?"  
  
"Get some sleep," suggested Harry after a moment's silence. "You're tired and aren't thinking clearly. I won't sleep for a while and we'll see if we're right or not about the dreams. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Hermione nodded and turned toward the door, opening it and stepping out. She closed it softly behind her and Harry could almost feel her withdrawing. Just an hour before she'd been laughing and ready for a pillow fight and now she was quiet and sullen again. He sighed dejectedly. Every time progress was made, something happened to start them back at stage one again.   
  
He walked over to stroke Hedwig, who had flown over to her cage and was lapping water thirstily. He wondered why she'd returned with only Ron's letter. Obviously she'd dropped off Sirius's too, or else it would still be on her leg. Maybe Sirius was using another owl. Harry didn't much care as long as his godfather replied sometime soon.   
  
"Sirius, where are you?" he whispered into the darkness outside his window. His voice was filled was a painful longing. "We need you right now." 


	8. Destiny's Memories 1

A/n: Sorry for the wait, but school is out now, so chapters will be coming more frequently, promise! Thank you to the three people who reviewed my last chapter. I appreciate you all!  
  
::: 4 :::  
  
Destiny's Memories  
  
"The angry morning  
  
Gives the early signs of warning,  
  
You must face alone the plans you make  
  
Decisions they will try to break."  
  
--Three Doors Down  
  
Though the sun dawned beautifully the following morning, for the first time in a long while, Hermione was not awake to watch it. She'd slept through most of the night, disturbed only once sometime in the early hours of the morning by a mild nightmare. While normally she'd have stayed awake, the ongoing lack of sleep had finally hit her and she fell asleep again almost as abruptly as she'd been awakened. It was somewhere around the middle of the day when she finally emerged from her room, looking rested.  
  
She knocked on Harry's closed door and heard a frantic rustling of papers from inside and his call of, "Coming!" A moment later, he opened the door and gave her a weary grin. His hair was wild and messy he was blinking rapidly. He invited her in and she accepted his invitation.  
  
Immediately she noticed a pile of books on his bed, some open and with papers and quills scattered about atop them. They were the books she'd loaned him the day before. She gave him a taunting smile. "Been studying have you?"  
  
"For once," said Harry, returning her grin. "Hey, I had hours to kill and nothing better to do. I figured I might as well do something more productive than staring at walls. I have to admit, if I thought studying would be a more invigorating activity, I was wrong. I was just thinking a few minutes ago how I would be switching to observing the furniture soon."  
  
She laughed a little. "Well, despite your complaints, you've certainly been engrossed in the books-it's nearly noon!"  
  
"I know. I ate breakfast a while ago, but I came back up. I don't really know what to do with myself without you around. I feel weird."  
  
"You don't have to," she admonished. "My parents like you and you're a welcome guest. You're allowed to watch television or something else if you want."  
  
"I don't feel comfortable watching television in my own home, let alone in someone else's." He paused and smiled. "It's still hard to remember I don't really have a home. It'll take some getting used to. I mean, I never really considered the Dursleys' house to be home, but at least I knew where I was going in the summer. Now I'm just sort of lost and drifting . . . It may be odd, but it's still better than the Dursleys." He shrugged in an unconcerned type of way.  
  
"My home is your home for as long as you need it and I'm sure Sirius will come for you soon. You said he'd gotten a house. That's your home, Harry."   
  
Harry just shrugged again. It didn't particularly bother him-he had too many other more pressing issues on the tip of his tongue. "So did our experiment work? I didn't sleep. Any nightmares? You certainly slept like you didn't have any."  
  
Hermione had to think hard to remember. She sighed in depression at the realization that their one lead was now dead. "Yes," she said. "One, somewhere around three. No chance you dozed off?"  
  
Harry shook his head, his expression grim. He forced himself to give a smile. "Don't worry, we'll work something else out. I suppose I should be getting some sleep now, though-I'm dead tired after so much insomnia."  
  
Hermione sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, her lighthearted mood leaving. "We've got a lot to work out, haven't we?"  
  
Harry was about to reply when a scream echoed up the stairs. Hermione was on her feet in an instant, her face pale and her breath sharp. Her heart was thudding in her chest. Harry was right behind her, moving quickly to the door. He felt a strong sense of déjà vu overcome him. Wasn't this what had happened with Aunt Petunia?  
  
"That's my mother!" cried Hermione, the worry in her voice distinct.   
  
Harry nodded grimly and opened the door. He darted back to his bed and rummaged under it quickly to look for something. A moment later he pulled out his wand. Another scream accompanied his voice. "Let's go."  
  
The two jogged hesitantly down the stairs. Hermione led them toward the family room, where she thought she'd heard the screams come from. Worry was overtaking her. What was happening? Was her mother all right?  
  
Hermione's sense of direction did not fail them. They entered the family room and immediately saw Hermione's parents and a third man whose face they couldn't see. Hermione's father had the man-who was at least a head shorter-pinned against the far wall. A wand lay on the ground at his feet. Hermione's mother was hovering some distance back, holding a phone and apparently torn about whether or not to dial it. The strange man was muttering something in a low, soothing voice to Daniel Granger, who appeared to be angry and refusing to accept the words he was hearing.  
  
"What's going on?" asked Harry, his strong voice cutting through the room and making heads turn.   
  
"Harry! Go get Hermione and get out. I don't know who this man is, but he's looking for the two of you. Go, we'll come for you when it's safe."  
  
"Harry!" gasped the man, though Harry could still not see his face. "Hermione, please, reassure your father I'm here to do you no harm."  
  
Harry's eyes bulged in disbelief. He turned to Hermione to see if she was thinking along the same lines he was. She nodded. "Sirius?" asked Harry uncertainly.  
  
"Who else would I be?" demanded Sirius, apparently getting irritated. "Tell him to let me go, please. I can scarcely breathe!"  
  
"Dad, let him down!" commanded Hermione.  
  
Daniel was still unsure. He loosened his grip enough for Sirius to take a shuddering breath but did not release him. "Who is this man?"  
  
"He's my godfather," said Harry. "Not too sure what he's doing here, but we can trust him. He's not here to hurt us. Don't you remember? You saw him a few months ago in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. He was there when Dumbledore was explaining things."  
  
"I wasn't paying all that much attention to the people. I was more focused on Hermione," he said dryly. He let Sirius go. Sirius nodded his thanks and straightened his cloak. "I apologize, sir, but you have to understand I'm a bit edgy. Things are a bit out of control right now."  
  
Sirius gave him a smile. "That's more than all right. I have a complete understanding of the state of current events and even if they weren't as they are, I would still have expected such a reaction. I would have reacted similarly." He turned his attention to Harry, who was now standing close. Harry was obviously still confused, but he wore a large grin. Sirius embraced his godson. "It's good to see you, Harry!"  
  
"You too," said Harry. "Not to sound like I don't appreciate the visit, but why are you here?"  
  
"I got your letter," said Sirius grimly. "Writing back would have taken too long, so I came to you in person. You need to leave here."  
  
"We know," said Hermione. "We're already making arrangements, we just don't know where to go."  
  
Sirius turned to her and gave her a warm smile. "Hello, Hermione. How have you been?"  
  
She gave him a slight smile. "I can't tell you how sick I am of hearing that question."  
  
Sirius laughed. "I'd imagine. Okay, I'll let it drop, then. Move on to business, shall we? There will be time for small talk later. Where do you intend to go?"  
  
Hermione and Harry exchanged a look. "Well," said Harry slowly, "we hadn't worked out any details. I was considering coming to stay with you in Dumbledore's hideout, or in your new house, should you have it ready. I don't have anywhere else to go." He looked at Hermione and gave her a grateful smile. "Hermione's been a great help in all this, but I couldn't impose on any relatives her parents might send her to."  
  
"Harry," Hermione began, but was cut off by her father.  
  
"Your mother and I have discussed it since we last talked," he said, making everyone in the room look towards him. He glanced at his wife, who nodded. "We will allow you to go with Harry and stay with Professor Dumbledore. This is not at all ideal. We'd feel much better if you went to one of our relatives, but we agree that we don't want to separate the two of you right now. Harry's presence is clearly helping you, honey."  
  
Hermione felt relief at her father's words and it was apparently evident on her face because Harry gave her an agreeable smile. "When are we to leave?"  
  
"Now, if at all possible," answered Sirius. He gave her parents a sheepish smile. "I didn't come here to work out details so much as to get the both of them and bring them back. If you'd prefer I came back later . . ."  
  
"No, that's okay," said Daniel, though his words appeared forced. He was clearly unhappy with the situation. "We understand the immediate need to get them out of here. The longer they stay the more danger they're in. Cecile and I are going to stay with my brother in Sussex. They're sure to trace Hermione to here and then they'll find us if we stay. I'm terribly sorry that my kind are causing so much trouble."  
  
Hermione was about to protest again, but Sirius beat her to it. "Sir, if I may say, there aren't simply two sides in this war. A large percentage of the wizarding world is made up of Muggle-borns, which means there are a lot of Muggles out there who know of us and support us. In my mind, there are three sides. The wizards, the Muggles, and people like you. You're obviously a decent man, that's reflected in your daughter if in nothing else, and if you had the ability to do magic, you'd make a fine wizard. Muggles are non-magic people who refuse to accept the magical sort. You're simply a non-magic person. They really need to make a new definition."  
  
Mr. Granger nodded, though it was obvious he still felt some guilt in the matter. He looked to his daughter and rested a loving hand on her shoulder. "I suppose you two had better head upstairs and get your things . . ."  
  
Harry nodded and took Hermione's hand, leading her out of the room. She was still standing still, feeling overwhelmed by the quick pace at which everything was ocurring. She followed Harry up the stairs with one backwards glance at her parents and Sirius where they stood talking. Harry said nothing until they reached the top landing. Her immediate shock at the abrupt arrival and announcement of Sirius had faded and now all was left over was a grim resolution. She understood the necessity to leave here-she'd expected them to leave today or tomorrow. However, when it came down to it, it was still a shock. True, for the larger part of the summer she'd remained off in her room, ignoring and rebuffing her parents' attempts to reach her. It had not been fun. That didn't change the fact that this was her home. Now, with Harry's arrival, things were beginning to look up and now she was being sent off again.  
  
Harry could sense her mood. He put a reassuring arm around her and grinned. "Hey, it's okay. At least we'll be together. And it'll be nice seeing everyone again. Could be worse, right?"  
  
Hermione sighed and nodded. She looked around her, not that there was much to see except closed doors along the hallway. "Yes, you're right."  
  
"Do you want me to help you pack? I've only taken a couple of things out of my trunk and most of them I've put back since. I'll check again and help you."  
  
Hermione nodded and opened her door. Crookshanks, who'd obviously been waiting on the other side, darted through immediately, nearly tripping her and dashing down the stairs so that they saw no more than an orange blur. Harry rolled his eyes and his arms seemed to sting in memory of the night before.   
  
He made a quick check of the room he'd just begun to get used to. Harry felt a slight headache pounding in his skull. He massaged his temples as he made the bed and double-checked his trunk. Everything really was moving far too quickly.   
  
By the time he'd dragged his trunk out into the hall, he could see Hermione struggling to close the lid on her own. He joined her and the two managed to get it closed. Once they had, he looked up at her with a teasing grin. "I suppose it's so hard to close because it's overflowing with books?"  
  
"What else?" she replied. "Did you really expect me to go six months without studying? Now help me drag this down the stairs."  
  
Harry waved his hand negligently. "Just pull it out into the hall. We can't do magic, but Sirius can. It'll be a lot easier for him to just enchant them. I think the harder part will be getting Crookshanks. I'll help you find him, but forget any physical contact-you're very much on your own when it comes to putting him in his cage." He rolled up his sleeves, displaying to her the mosaic of scratches Crookshanks had given him the night before. "The cat doesn't like me touching him."  
  
"Oh!" she cried in worry. "When did he do that?"  
  
"Last night. He was attacking Hedwig," said Harry, shrugging. "Don't worry, I've been through much worse. Just warning you-I've got enough scratches. There isn't room for any more."   
  
Despite Harry's declaration, he ended up helping Hermione stuff her cat into his cage once they'd located him under the dining room table. She carried him into the family room while Sirius floated their trunks down. He pulled out a sack of Floo Powder once everything was collected and Hermione and Harry had said goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Granger.  
  
"Oh, is that how you arrived?" asked Hermione wryly. "No wonder you frightened my parents."  
  
Sirius smiled at her. "No other option, I'm afraid. This is the quickest way, as you two aren't of age to Apparate yet. Do you have everything?"  
  
Harry and Hermione glanced at one another and Harry sighed, nodding. "Yeah. We're going to Dumbledore's hideout?"  
  
Sirius nodded. "For now, yes. Perhaps later in the summer you can come with me to stay in my new house, but I'm afraid our duties to everything else are being neglected. There's so much the Dark Lord left over for us to wrap up and of course there's the brewing war . . . Professor Figg has had to duck out of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year to help. Dumbledore will only be there part time. Fletcher has completely withdrawn from the Ministry for now. This will not be finished by the summer's end, I'm sorry to say."  
  
"So who will be our new professor? I'd ask if it would be you or Professor Lupin, but both of you are also involved," said Hermione.  
  
"No, it won't be either of us, though perhaps one day it will be. I'm not sure who. I don't think Dumbledore is, either. We'll have to wait and see," said Sirius.  
  
Hermione said her final farewells to her parents and each of the three took their turn tossing a bit of Floo Powder into the fireplace and stepping into the emerald flames. Harry felt the usual wave of nausea wash over him as he spun in the fireplace, finally coming to stop in the fire at Dumbledore's sanctuary. Harry stepped out to the large, warm room. He remembered the hours he'd spent there the year before. This place had been their temporary haven. In a way, he looked at it as the eye of the storm-it had been calm, a chance to rest and prepare for what was ahead. Then the next thing had hit them. Well, if I've got to spend a few months here, I suppose it's a good thing this place doesn't hold particularly bad memories, decided Harry. He dropped his trunk loudly and immediately everyone working at their respective desks around the room looked up. He gave them a small smile, sheepish for interrupting their work.  
  
Just then Hermione appeared, unintentionally slamming into him from behind. He toppled forward onto the floor. Hermione managed to regain her balance before she fell too. Unlike Harry, she quickly dragged their trunks out of the way of the fireplace and stepped to the side. A moment later Sirius appeared, looking the least disheveled of the three. He noticed his godson on the floor and grinned at him. "Your father could never get the hang of traveling by Floo Power either," he commented at he pulled Harry to his feet. "He'd puke or collapse every time we had to use it. It was a great opportunity for Moony and I-we never let him hear the end of it."  
  
Harry laughed at the image. Professor Lupin had moved from his station and now appeared beside Sirius. "Oh, Padfoot, don't make it sound like we were heartless," he admonished. "Lily didn't like Floo Powder either and she reacted the same way, but we had decency. We never teased her."  
  
Harry grinned again and extended his hand to his old professor, who accepted it gratefully. He then turned to shake Hermione's hand. "It's great to see you both," he said. "It seems we never get the pleasure of meeting under decent circumstances, does it not?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Hey, it's better than last time."  
  
"An excellent point."   
  
The four turned to see Dumbledore standing just behind Professor Lupin. He greeted them all with a smile. "Welcome. I am glad to see you both again. You look well."  
  
"You too, sir," said Harry politely.   
  
Dumbledore gave Hermione a smile, which she returned. Harry, who had been watching, relaxed considerably. Her smile was sincere, not forced. He supposed that perhaps it was just easier on her to be around wizards in general.  
  
"Welcome, Hermione. I must apologize for the haste in bringing you here-I don't suppose you're feeling all too kindly toward me right now. I do hope you understand the necessity-staying there much longer would have been invitation for the Muggle law enforcement to take you. We have enough problems with affairs between our two sides right now without that on top of it. Not to mention the fact I don't think it would have been a particularly enjoyable experience for you, either."  
  
"That's all right. We would have had to leave soon anyway. It was unexpectedly quick, yes, but it's done with now," she responded calmly. "I do apologize for all the trouble I've caused you. If only I hadn't thrown that Muggle boy back against that tree . . ."  
  
"Do not apologize," reprimanded Dumbledore, looking at her sternly. "You did what the situation forced you to do. Had they not attacked you, you would not have had to defend yourself. I would have been disappointed had you not attacked."  
  
Hermione looked down, her guilty expression still present. "Yes, but-"  
  
Dumbledore held up a hand. "While I am normally quite happy to accept someone else's opinion, not this time. Hermione, you did nothing wrong. This situation would have come about no matter what you did or didn't do. It was nearing the breaking point; you were just what sent it over the edge. If you had not done it, someone else would have."  
  
Hermione nodded and said nothing else.  
  
Dumbledore smiled at the both of them. "All right then. We have a great many things to discuss, but first, I will allow you to get settled in your rooms. I warn you, they are small." Dumbledore led the two toward two doors on the opposite wall of the rooms they'd stayed in last time. He opened up one and stepped inside. The room was decorated in red and gold colors. The bed was large with a checkerboard red-gold pattern, with one pillow of each color at the head. There was a small wooden table on the right side with a lamp and clock. There was a dresser pressed up against the far wall and a door in the right wall. A gold rug was placed right in front of the bedside table. The walls were white, but there were no windows.  
  
"This will be Harry's room," announced Dumbledore. He motioned at the door in the right wall. "This door will join your two rooms. It locks. The only real difference between the two rooms is there is an old bookshelf in the other room, which I had the notion Hermione would enjoy." At this proclamation, Hermione grinned happily.  
  
Harry dragged his trunk over and set it down in front of the dresser and Dumbledore unlocked the door and led Hermione through to her room. He looked his over with a slight smile. This wasn't so different from his Gryffindor dorm. The only difference-the best difference-was that he had this room to himself. Not that he didn't like the other boys in his dorm; it was just that it was a nice change to have a room to himself and not be at the Dursleys.  
  
He walked through the door that adjoined his and Hermione's rooms. Dumbledore was standing by the door that led out to the main area, watching as Hermione looked over to the tiny, squat bookshelf that was against the wall beside the door. She was frowning, much to Harry's surprise.  
  
He soon found out why. "Almost half of these look like something you'd find in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library, Professor. A lot of them look like Dark Arts books," she commented, looking up at Dumbledore with a confused expression.  
  
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I am aware of that. I trust you to use your discretion, Miss Granger. While Hogwarts does not teach the Dark Arts like some other schools for obvious reasons, I see no harm in you looking at Dark Arts books. You need to be aware of what you're up against. I trust you and Harry without question. I do not for a second believe that you will attempt to use anything in those books or I would not give you the opportunity to see them. I simply thought you might find them interesting to look at."  
  
Hermione nodded, still looking slightly puzzled. "The others look very interesting though. Oh, look, one on advanced Transfiguration and Arithmancy!"  
  
Harry laughed and she looked at him. "Hermione, can you not think about classes and subjects for longer than ten minutes?" he asked her jokingly.  
  
"Harry, our O.W.L.s-"  
  
"I know, I know," he defended. "I was studying, wasn't I? You even caught me! It's Ron you need to be nagging."  
  
Hermione pursed her lips in disapproval. "Yes, I doubt he's so much as picked up a single book all summer."  
  
"If he even remembers that O.W.L.s are still taking place at all!"  
  
As the two shared a grin, Dumbledore watched, a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. They were so young. Innocent, no, not after all they'd seen and been forced to do, yet they'd still managed to recover so well in such a short amount of time. He hoped that future events would not change that. He prayed that history would not repeat itself.  
  
"I will leave you to get settled," said Dumbledore, making them look at him. "We will send someone for you when lunch is ready."  
  
"Professor, wait," called Hermione. Dumbledore stopped and turned to face her. There was no trace of her smile now. She looked at Harry, then back at Dumbledore. "Did you read the letter we sent you?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I did. There are matters that we will discuss later, but not now. Please do alert me, though, if you have any more of these visions or dreams. It would be helpful to know. I assure you that while I know nothing concrete at this point, I am looking into it to the best of my ability."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Thank you."  
  
Dumbledore left and Hermione moved over to sit on her bed. She looked sort of bleak as she stared blankly at the bookshelf. Harry came over and sat beside her. "You okay?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," she said. "I just wish we could get some answers. We've been through so much, and now some new, confusing, horrible thing is happening. Everything is moving at an alarming rate." She put her head in her hands and gave a forlorn sigh. "It's hard to take it all in."  
  
Harry put an arm around her and they sat like that for several minutes, unmoving. Finally, Hermione gave him a grateful smile, stood up, and walked over to the bookshelf once more. She appeared her old self again. Harry was having trouble getting used to her frequent mood changes and could think of nothing more to say. Her eyes began to scan the spines of the books, and Harry stood, deciding to go and speak to Sirius, leaving Hermione to investigate her new reading material. The last thing he heard on the way out the door was her excited exclamation to no one in particular: "I've never seen any of these in the Hogwarts library before!"  
  
A/N: I decided to be kind and not end this one with a cliffhanger. Why? Because I made you wait so long for this part, and I couldn't find a better place to break this chapter in two. Urg, I really hate Notepad, and I hate the fact that ff.net will not let me upload things from MW anymore! 


	9. Destiny's Memories 2

A/n:  Okay, I must thank Sharp Edge profusely for telling me how to work HTML.  Thank you so much!  You know what that means, guys?  No more half-chapters—you get the full things.  Which I assure you, as I have written up through chapter eight (the ACTUAL chapter eight), are very long.  All of them.  One hundred seventy pages so far and only eight and a third chapters.  Whew.  Of course that means one of two things—I have to write a lot faster, or you'll have to wait longer for chapters.  They take a while to write.  All well.  

About this part—I really like it.  It's very important for coming events.  I just like this part, and I hope you feel the same way.  

One last note.  This is mainly directed at those readers who are also reading Just Like Hermione's fanfic "Harry Potter and the Truest Power".  If you aren't then . . . why not?  It's great!  Go check it out!  You will abandon me immediately when you see what true talent looks like!  Why am I saying that if you will abandon me?  I do not know either, so we won't go there.  :-)  Anyway.  The two of us have agreed it's necessary to put this in author's notes in our stories.  We ourselves have noticed many parallels between our two stories.  They are completely coincidental.  The two of us think so much alike it's scary.  So if you're reading both, we are not plagarising one another.  Now—on to the chapter! 

:::Destiny's Memories 2:::

Harry stepped out of the room and looked around.  He spotted Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore some distance away, in a corner, taking in hushed whispers.  He walked over to them, feeling a distant, indistinct discomfort.  He hoped he wasn't interrupting anything important.  His uncertainty was driven into embarrassment when they all stopped talking and turned to look at him when he came into hearing distance.  

"Er," he muttered, searching for words.

"Yes, Harry?" asked Dumbledore kindly.

Though Dumbledore's demeanor was no less than pleasant, Harry could sense a reserve to the headmaster, and knew he had indeed come at an unfortunate time.  "I just wanted to talk to Sirius, but . . . I can come back later . . . s-sorry . . ."

"No need for that," said Dumbledore, giving him a smile.  "We were just finishing up here."  He gave Sirius a look.  Though his face was blank, there was a dangerous, warning flash in his eyes that provided no room for arguments.  It appeared to have been a volatile conversation that Harry had walked in on and disrupted, judging from his godfather's scowl and stance.  Sirius gave a quick, reluctant nod, acknowledging Dumbledore's superiority.  "I'll be in my office."  With that, Dumbledore walked away, his stride a bit quicker and edgier than Harry was accustomed to seeing.

Remus watched Sirius.  He lay a tentative hand on his shoulder and said gently, "Talk to Harry.  But keep in mind what has been discussed.  I know you don't like it, Padfoot, but keep yourself in check.  You know what can happen if this goes awry.  You know that first hand, from what happened last time . . ."

Sirius's expression softened at the use of his old childhood nickname, and became wistful at the last thing Remus said.  Remus passed Harry with a cheerful hello, but Harry, too involved in watching Sirius, did not even notice.

Sirius turned to Harry, who immediately began apologizing.  "I'm sorry, I didn't know I was breaking up anything," he hurried to say.  

Sirius shook his head with a slightly angry glance in the direction of the door to Dumbledore's office.  "Don't be sorry.  You didn't know.  Besides that, the conversation was turning explosive.  If you hadn't come when you did, things would have been said that we'd all end up regretting.  Your timing was far from off-key—quite impeccable, really."  Harry could tell Sirius was making himself to calm down.  He gave Harry a slightly forced smile.  "Let's take a walk."

Harry frowned in confusion.  "A walk?  Where's there to walk in this place?"

Sirius gave him another grin, this one more relaxed.   "You'd be surprised.  Come on.  Remus will cover for me."

Harry hesitated.  "Shall I ask Hermione along?"

Sirius paled a little and shook his head.  "No.  I'd rather speak with just you for now.  I have nothing against Hermione—quite the contrary.  But you and I haven't had much time alone since we first met three years ago.  I'd like a chance to talk to you one on one for once."

Harry sensed there was more to his desire to leave Hermione behind than he let on, but Harry simply nodded.  He figured Hermione would be buried in her books for the rest of the day anyway and after what happened on their last walk, he thought she might not be so keen on going anyway.  He nodded and followed Sirius to the door leading out of the main area.  He found himself in a stairwell leading down to the empty concrete room in which he, Hermione, Ron, Draco, and Dumbledore had first Apparated to this place.

Sirius walked down the steps and Harry followed.  The room was devoid of any doors or windows—anything you could use to leave.  Harry was beyond confused now, and looked at Sirius, his face relaying his feelings.

"This place is guarded by deep magic, as I'm sure Dumbledore has told you," explained Sirius.  You cannot leave or enter it through simple doors.  We must Apparate in and out and from this specific location.  Only people with granted access can enter and they cannot bring anyone else with them unless that person has also been cleared.  You and Hermione are allowed to leave and come as you please, but I'll have to Apparate you because you don't know how yet."  
  


"Where are we going?" asked Harry.

"One of my favorite childhood places," said Sirius.  His voice turned sad.  "I haven't been back in years."

"Because of your imprisonment in Azkaban?" asked Harry gently, knowing it was a sensitive topic.

Sirius shook his head.  Harry would have sworn he'd seen a couple of tears in Sirius's eyes, but he turned away before he was certain.  "No.  I'll explain later.  Come on now, take my hand."

Harry did as he was told, though he felt rather numb.  He understood what Hermione meant.  This really was all moving far too fast.  Sirius closed his eyes and Harry braced himself for the dizzying experience that was Apparition.  Sure enough, the room began to spin around him and was soon no more than a mere blur of colors, which were fading into greens and blues.   The spinning slowed, finally coming to a stop and leaving Harry with a pounding headache and swirling stomach.  He clutched his gut and bent over, feeling ready to heave.

Sirius seemed rather disconcerted from their arrival as well.  He stumbled as if drunk, swaying back and forth gently.  Slowly, Harry's nausea faded and Sirius's posture was righted.  Harry glanced at his godfather.  "What happened?  It wasn't like that when Dumbledore Apparated us.  That was worse than Floo Powder!"

Sirius shook his head, looking grim.  "It shouldn't have happened that way, Harry.  I've never heard of making a mistake during the process of Apparition that could lead to results like that.  I think the magical barriers that defend our hideout may have been tampered with.  We have to pass through them to Apparate, and if one of them had been changed, it's possible in theory that you could feel it when Apparating.  Of course, I'm sure whoever did it didn't have that in mind."

Harry's eyes widened.  "Tampered with?" he repeated dumbly.  "Why?  Voldemort's gone now . . . who would . . ."  Just as quickly as they had widened, his eyes narrowed to slits of anger.  "Lucius Malfoy?" he suggested, teeth clenched a deep undercurrent of anger in his voice.  He'd always hated the man, but since learning of all he'd subjected Hermione to, he wanted nothing more than to wring his neck.  It drove him nuts knowing he'd never been caught.

"It could be Malfoy," allowed Sirius with a brief nod.  "But then, it could have been anyone.  There are still a lot of Death Eaters out there who are loyal to Voldemort, despite his downfall.  Voldemort's followers have a new spark in them.  They almost won.  They would have if it weren't for you, Hermione, and Malfoy's son.  It'll take a while for them to learn to accept defeat and fade away again.  Right now, their angry and riled up.  They'd love nothing more than to break in and kill us.  Why do you think we've been working so hard to catch them?"

"If it's Malfoy, will you catch him?" demanded Harry.  

Sirius shrugged, eyeing his godson with what looked like vague amusement, though Harry couldn't understand why.  "We might.  Believe me, he's number one on the most wanted list.  Unfortunately, he's also number one on the best hidden list.  We'll do the best we can, Harry.  We both know what the man has done and I understand how personally his actions have affected you and Hermione.  But the best is all we can do.  Especially with Pettigrew on the loose."

Harry's eyes bulged again.  "What?!" he yelled.  "Wormtail's loose!  Since when?  Why didn't someone tell me?"

Sirius winced.  "That was something Dumbledore was intending to cover with the both of you tonight.  I'll let him go further into it."  Seeing Harry's outraged and overwhelmed expression, he put a hand on his shoulder.  "Come on, now.  Let's not ruin our day together.  We can still have a good time.  Just put it out of your mind.  You'll find out later."

Harry nodded, though this information would not leave his mind completely until he was informed in more detail.  For the first time, he took in his surroundings.  He was standing in a sort of forest clearing.  Trees surrounded them from all sides, in an oval sort of shape.  It looked almost tropical.  Vines hung from the trees and strange, unseen alien birds called out.  Beyond the trees surrounding them, the forest turned threateningly dark.  Above them, the golden sun shined down, warming Harry's face and head.  Perhaps the most lovely of all was the shimmering pool of ocean blue water.  It was small, taking up about half the clearing and surrounded by rocks.  Water trickled down from a rock wall behind it, creating a sort of miniature waterfall.  The water was so clear and pure you could see every detail of the rocks at the bottom.  The tall, deep green grass surrounding it provided a soft sort of bed to lay on.

"Whoa," Harry breathed.  He'd never been one to be inspired by the beauty of nature—though he could appreciate a sunset and such things—but this captured him instantly.  "Where _is_ this place?"  
  


Sirius gave a soft chuckle.  "Believe it or not, this is inside the Forbidden Forest."

Harry looked at Sirius as though he'd grown an extra head. "You've got to be kidding me.  No place this nice could be in there.  How could you have found it?"

"Your parents," said Sirius simply.  "James was always fascinated with this old place—the forest in general, I mean.  He was always finding ways to sneak in here.  In our seventh year, he and your mother began dating."  Sirius laughed again, the memories making his eyes sparkle in a way Harry had never seen before.  "In James's mind, a trip into the Forbidden Forest was the best of all times.  Needless to say, Lily didn't exactly feel the same way.  I warned James so many times that taking her in here on a first date spelled disaster, but he was adamant.  Those two, though . . . they were meant for one another.  James's stupidity didn't break them up.  Quite the contrary, it lead them to find this place.

"Remus, James, and I returned all the time after he found it.  Lily was usually with us then, too.  Sometimes, when James—I regret to say, Peter—and I came out to accompany Remus during his transformations, we'd come here.  He never got as violent in here.  There's some sort of a magic in this place.  A deep, natural magic that I've never heard of.  Anyway, the discovery of this clearing brought the curiosity out in us Marauders.  We'd pretty much gotten everything we could onto the Marauder's Map, and we began trying to write a map for the forest, too.  We never finished it and it got tucked away somewhere.  I'm not sure where it is now.  I think James was the last to have it.  We graduated from Hogwarts and such things were left behind us, replaced with the tragedies that came later.

"But I'd still come here at times, along with the others.  We were still the best of friends, still together in the Order of the Phoenix.  You were born, and then that terrible night . . ." Sirius broke off, shuddering.  "I've never been back here since because of that.  The memories of James and Lily and the times when I was so certain in the beliefs of who I could trust are just so strong here.  I didn't think I could handle it."

Harry could think of nothing to say, listening avidly to every detail about his parents.  He could feel the sorrow radiating from Sirius and could feel it puncturing his own soul.  Suddenly this place seemed harder to be in, yet at the same time, all the more intriguing.  Harry wandered over to the edge of the pool and stared down into its clear depths, his hands deep in his pockets.  He could feel a desperation and a longing to know his parents.  It gnawed at him painfully.

He sat down on the soft, cushioned grass and flicked bits of things into the pool.  Sirius seemed to have withdrawn into himself, and Harry decided that this was not the kind of day Sirius had had in mind when he'd brought Harry here.

"Harry," came Sirius's voice suddenly.  Harry spun to look at his godfather, who was now striding toward him.  "I'm needed back at the sanctuary."

"How do you know?" asked Harry?

"All of us have a spell on us that informs us subtly when we're needed.  Look, do you want to come back now, or stay here?  I can enchant a Portkey for you if you'd like to stay a bit longer."

Harry nodded.  "I think I'd like to stay here."

Sirius pulled a handkerchief from his pocket along with his wand and performed a complex spell on it.  He handed it to Harry a moment later.  "This will bring you back in a half hour.  Watch the time.  If you don't arrive, I'm coming back for you.  Okay?"

Harry nodded again and took it.  "Yeah.  Thanks."

Sirius hesitated, glancing behind him and to Harry again.  Finally, he sighed.  "Listen, Harry . . . I just wanted to tell you that you're a remarkably strong person."

Harry was startled by this abrupt turn of the conversation.  "Thanks," he muttered uncertainly.  "I guess."

"You and Hermione both are," he said.  "Especially together.  You're an unbeatable team, the two of you.  I believe that you can face anything you need to.  Don't forget that." 

"Ron, too," added Harry quickly.  "There's no team without him."

"Yes, of course.  And Ron," said Sirius, but there was a reserve to his voice as he said it, serving to confuse Harry.  He gave Harry a knowing look.  "If I'm not much mistaken, you like Hermione a lot."

Harry blushed and cleared his throat awkwardly.  "Maybe . . . a little . . ."

Sirius smiled.  "You're just like your father—and I assure you there is no better compliment."  He turned stern once more, checking his watch.  "Half hour.  Don't forget."  And then he was gone.

Harry pondered Sirius's stranger behavior and comments, all the while clenching the handkerchief distractedly.  Finally, he set the cloth down and stood up, pulling off his shirt so that he was only wearing his shorts.  The pool was just deep enough to swim in.  He waded into the deeper parts.  The water had an unnatural feel to it.  It wasn't freezing as Harry had suspected, but rather, it was warm like a heated public pool with a distinct lack of chlorine.  In fact, he'd never been in water that felt so clean and pure.  Even the Prefects' bathtub paled in comparison, which was saying something.  It seemed to wash over his skin like warm blankets.  He hardly had to paddle to stay afloat—the water seemed like it was carrying him.

At the base of the trickling waterfall, there was a short log, stained a red color by the water.  He swam over to it and felt it.  It seemed set in a firm position.  He sat down on it, dangling his legs into the water and enjoying the perfection of the moment.  This really was the most wondrous of places.  

He felt a distinct wish resounding in his head for Hermione to be there with him.  She could use the elation he was feeling right now.  Besides that fact, he remembered how this was the location of his parents' first ever date, and he couldn't help imagining the same success between he and Hermione.  Not that she had even shown any interest in him, he reminded himself.  _Don't get ahead of yourself, Potter,_ he thought.  He was beginning to doubt he'd ever have the courage to actually tell her how he felt.

He ran his hands over the smooth log on either side of him as he thought.  He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his finger and pulled his hand away, looking at it.  Sure enough, there was a small, yet distinct sliver and a tiny prick of blood.  He looked down at the log and at the only rough imperfection of its smooth, almost hand-crafted wood.  It was a minute, barely noticeable carving.  He put his face closer to it and his eyes widened.  The letters _L_ and _J_ were artistically entwined around one another with an extremely tiny, yet very distinct halo of leaves and flowers carved around it.  L and J.  Lily and James.  His parents.

In a dim sort of shock, he ran his fingers over the letters and let the feeling of sorrow take over the one of beauty and splendor that had captured him just moments before.  He stopped tracing the carvings with his finger and turned away.  He'd had enough memories of his parents for one day.  Besides that, it was probably time for the Portkey to leave anyway.  

He turned and swam back to where he'd left his shirt, his tangled mess of thoughts pounding at his brain.


	10. Destiny's Return

A/n:  Sorry if you didn't get an e-mail notifying you of this update.  FanFiction.Net is being really irritating, and I am unable to access two of my reviews for this fic, and five for my other, Tears of the Phoenix.  I've e-mailed them three times, and they still refuse to answer.  They are annoying people.  If anyone could help me, if you know how, I'd appreciate it beyond words.  Here's a long chapter.  Unfortunately, though I said you'd be getting whole chapters, you won't be.  You'll be getting half chapters again, but that's only because future chapters are two long to upload in one.  They exceed the word limit.  One chapter is thirty eight pages.  Still, be happy, because if it wasn't for HTML, you'd be getting that one in four parts insead of two.  :-)  Please review!

::: 6 :::

Destiny's Return

For Harry and Hermione, the summer seemed to pass them by in a state of perfection.  They spent almost all their days in the clearing, doing whatever felt right.  Harry would climb the rocky incline and reach the source of the waterfall while Hermione would sit in the shade and do what she was most famous for—studying.  Yet nothing was as simple there as it was back in the sanctuary.  The smallest of tasks and adventures seemed like the most exciting things imaginable.  It was hard to force themselves to leave.  Here, nothing existed for them to worry about.  They were both eleven years old again, back in the times before evil existed in their world in the form of Lord Voldemort.  Harry turned sixteen, but it felt almost as though he were getting younger and more carefree.

At the sanctuary, things were different.  The atmosphere was heavy and tense.  Attention was always focused on things such as the Death Eaters and raids.  Hermione seemed to withdraw back into herself the moment they returned there.  Sirius set up a permanent Portkey that allowed them to go back and forth between the sanctuary and the clearing whenever they pleased without having to bother the adults.  The problems with Apparition through the barriers had been fixed, but none of them had forgotten the tampering.  No one had anymore leads on Lucius Malfoy or the escapee Wormtail. 

No news had come about the brewing war between the Muggles and the wizards.  Muggles continued to attack wizards and their news was filled with such stories.  The Ministry of Magic, however, seemed to be biding their time.  There hadn't been any news for weeks.  Not even Dumbledore knew anything.  All he said was that the war was coming and just because they heard nothing did not mean all was calm.   

To top it all off, Harry and Hermione were almost able to put out of their minds the odd visions and dreams they'd been sharing.  With the exception of the occasional shared nightmare, they were no longer plagued by these frightening things.  When they told Dumbledore of this, he had frowned deeply, as though this were a bad thing.  He had offered no information, though.  Harry was able to set Dumbledore's reaction aside and just enjoy the days that passed.  However, he could never quite get the feeling out of his mind that this was all the lull before the storm.

Sooner than either would have expected, Hogwarts loomed before them and they found themselves lying the in clearing on the final night before they were to return to school.  Hermione was not reading for once, instead just lying on her back in the grass, staring up at the fading light of the sky.  Harry was sitting next to her, inspecting the Pioneer's Map for the hundredth time since he'd acquired it months before.  Despite his promise to tell Sirius and Remus that he'd found it, he never had.  He couldn't bring himself to risk losing it.

He looked around himself at the odd way that the trees of the clearing radiated light but everything beyond was dark and filled with shadows—the actual Forbidden Forest.  He'd considered leaving the clearing to go exploring before, but he had always held back for fear that he would not be able to return to the clearing and would be lost in the depths of the Forbidden Forest.  The first time he'd mentioned the idea of leaving to explore to Hermione, she had called him insane and threatened to curse him if he did try to leave.

Finally, Harry cleared the map and set it aside.  He looked down at Hermione.  Her eyes were closed, but she was clearly not sleeping.  He could feel the one worry that had been plaguing him all summer rising up again.  All the time he'd spent with Hermione in this clearing had only served to further his feelings for her.  She, however, still showed no interest in him as anything more than a friend.  He'd spent countless hours debating whether or not to tell her how he felt.  In the end, he'd never managed it, even now that she seemed so much like her old self.  It made him disgusted at his own lack of courage, but still he held back.  He was scared that she would turn away from him if he told her how he felt and he couldn't stand to lose her as a friend.  It was growing steadily more difficult to say nothing.

Hermione spoke up.  Her voice was quiet, but it filled the clearing easily.  "I guess tonight's it, then.  We'll never see this place again."

"Sure we will," Harry contradicted.  "We've got the map, and I'm sure I can use it to find my way back here.  If my dad could do it from Hogwarts, so can we, especially with the map to help us."

She made a small sound of agreement and the two lapsed into silence once more, watching the stars slowly emerge above them.  "So," began Harry after a few more seconds, "what do you think of going back to school?"

Hermione pushed herself up to a sitting position and looked at Harry seriously.  "I'm nervous," she replied.  "I mean, what will everybody think?  How will they react to seeing me again?  What if they're like Rita and think I was a traitor?"

Harry put his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder.  "Don't worry about them," he told her.  "The Slytherins will have a great time picking on you, but they did before any of this happened.  There might be the occasional few from the other Houses that don't trust you, but the people there know you, Hermione.  Anyone who truly knows you would know that you did not betray them willingly.  I can assure you that no Gryffindor will turn against you."

"I guess," muttered Hermione, but she looked far from convinced as she shredded a piece of long grass absentmindedly.

"Don't dwell on it," advised Harry.  "Think about seeing Ron and Hagrid again.  That will be nice, won't it?"

She nodded, smiling a little.  "Yes.  Much of an annoyance as he can be, I've grown to miss Ron.  Hagrid, too."

She seemed to be more at ease, though Harry knew that his few words had not helped much.  Still, she did not show it and the two sat together comfortably, talking of other things until the sliver of a crescent moon was high in the sky and they could barely see one another any longer.  Finally, they found it in their hearts to stand and reach for the Portkey to take them back, leaving behind the clearing in the Forbidden Forest.

Harry had expected to see packing and a state of hurried disarray when he got back.  However, everyone seemed just as calm as if this were any other night.  He frowned at this.  Professor Figg and Dumbledore had to return to Hogwarts just like he and Hermione, and Sirius had hinted that he and Remus would be around the school as well on special assignments.  So why wasn't anyone getting ready to leave the next morning?

Dumbledore saw them head in and walked over to greet them.  He smiled at them, his eyes twinkling.  "I trust you're both ready for the train tomorrow morning."

Harry nodded.  "Yes, Professor."  Remembering his confusion a moment earlier, he added, "I was wondering though—why isn't anyone else getting ready to return?"

"A good question, Harry," said Dumbledore.  "I am sorry to say that due to the ongoing responsibilities that the Order of the Phoenix demands, I will not be at Hogwarts much this year.  I will, of course, return periodically to make sure everything is running smoothly, and to pay the old place a visit.  However, for the most part, Professor McGonagall will be acting Headmistress this year.  As for Professor Figg, she is needed here and cannot fulfill her duties as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  I have allowed the Deputy Headmaster of this year to appoint a new professor for that particular subject."

"And who is the Deputy Headmaster?" asked Harry, an odd feeling of apprehension dawning.

"Professor Snape," said Dumbledore.  

"_Snape_?" Harry demanded, horrified.  "You're letting _him_ pick a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

Dumbledore nodded, a slight warning in his humbled features.  "Yes.  I trust Severus beyond a doubt.  I know the two of you have had problems with him in the past, and I am not about to defend his acute hatred for you, Harry.  It is indeed misplaced, but he is loyal nonetheless.  Miss Granger, you must admit that Snape helped you last year."

She nodded, looking a bit bitter.  "Yes, I suppose.  But he's still horrible—his personality certainly hasn't improved."

"Be that as it may, whomever Severus deems worthy, I will give a chance.  Now, you two had best turn in.  You've got a big day tomorrow.  I will be there for the Sorting and the feast, at which I will tell the rest of the school what I have told you of my other obligations."

Harry and Hermione nodded, still thunderstruck that Snape was to be choosing the new teacher.  "Oh, and Miss Granger?" called Dumbledore, making them stop and turn to look at him once more.  "Would you like to keep the books I've placed in your room?"

Hermione's eyes widened.  "Keep them?  Oh, Professor, I couldn't . . ."

"Nonsense.  Of course you can.  As Headmaster of Hogwarts, it is my job to provide learning for my students.  I have no hesitation in saying that you are the most dedicated student in the school and I am happy to donate those books to help your education.  You never know, they may end up coming into use.  I've never used them much anyway."

"If you're sure . . ."

"I am indeed."

"Th-thank you!" she stammered, smiling brightly.  

"I will see that they are delivered to Hogwarts and placed in your dormitory," said Dumbledore, giving her a smile.  He pulled from his pocket two envelopes and handed one to each of them.  "I have some other news I think you might be happy to hear.  Do open them."

Harry ripped open his envelope in a quick, messy manner, while Hermione neatly opened it under the flap.  Both ended up pulling their papers out at the same time.  Hermione, being the fast reader she was, was the first to let out a small squeal of delight.  Harry's face broke into a grin as he read:

_Dear Mr. Harry Potter:_

_   I am proud to inform you that you and fellow Housemate Miss Hermione Granger are to be fulfilling the duties of sixth-year Gryffindor Prefects this year.  Congratulations on your excellent behavior over past years and your leadership skills._

_            Sincerely,_

_                        Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_

As Harry looked up from his with a smile, Dumbledore began to speak.  "I had intended to make you both Prefects last year, but I felt that with your involvement with The Key, Miss Granger, you would not want yet another responsibility to take on.  Mr. Potter, I felt that the two of you should be Prefects together, as you are a remarkable team, so I waited to make you one as well.  I hope you do not mind."

"Not at all," said Harry pulling out a shiny silver Prefect badge.  "I'm surprised I even made Prefect, with all the detentions I get."

"While everyday school behavior and rule-abiding does indeed have an impact on who is chosen, I seek more than that.  I look for students who can lead well and who will set good examples for their fellow students.  I want students who have their hearts in the right places.  While you have certainly broken rules in the past, Harry, you have always done so for a good reason.  I don't doubt for a moment that you will perform admirably."

Hermione was grinning broadly as she and Harry walked back toward their rooms.  Harry, while feeling a great happiness at the fact that he was a Prefect with Hermione, was still deep in thought.  He couldn't get the staffing problems out of his mind.  "Snape," he muttered.  "Assigning a new teacher.  Can you say 'disaster'?"

"Oh, it can't possibly be that bad," replied Hermione.  "Snape's a horrible man, I'm not capable of denying that.  However, if he's that bad, it's not like any new teacher could be worse, right?"

"Don't be so sure," countered Harry.  "Remember the fact that Snape is a Death Eater turned good.  Look at who he's associated with—Karkaroff, for one.  Who knows who he'll assign?  Could be another ex-Death Eater.  I don't think Hogwarts can handle that.  I, for one, cannot handle _two_ Snapes and I'm pretty sure Ron would sooner jump out of the North Tower than have to put up with two Gryffindor-hating teachers with personal grudges."

"Stop speculating," said Hermione firmly.  "You're probably making a big something out of nothing.  Besides, we'll find out tomorrow.  So just put it to rest."  They had long since stopped in front of the two doors that led to their bedrooms and now Hermione turned the handle of hers.  "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," agreed Harry, turning and heading into his own dormitory.  He knew Hermione was right—knew that imagining the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as some horrible monster wasn't helping anything.  Still, he couldn't stop thinking about it.  Five years of knowing Snape simply wouldn't allow his mind to stop.

He double checked that he had everything ready for the next morning and set his Prefect badge proudly on his table before climbing into his bed—which Hermione had changed back to red and gold—and closing his eyes, praying that sleep would come easily.

                                    *                                   *                                   *

Far away, in a small shack in the dangerous part of a Muggle neighborhood, two figures were hunched over a steaming cauldron.  Red, swirling smoke wafted up slowly, and crimson light stained the walls of the shack.  One man sat in a tattered old green chair, which was covered in claw marks from the cats that would sometimes seek shelter in this abandoned place.  His chin rested in his hand as he watched the gradual simmering of the cauldron.  Another hunched man was working feverishly, mixing the bubbling liquid within it. 

"How is it coming, Wormtail?" asked the man in the chair.

Wormtail whimpered.  "As well as it can be, sir.  We are still missing several key ingredients."

"My informant is taking care of that.  He's gotten himself right where he needs to be.  We'll have the ingredients soon."

Wormtail's eyes widened.  "Even the girl?"

The man sneered at Wormtail.  "You are pathetic.  We don't need _her_—we just need a part of her.  Certainly, I would take great pleasure in capturing her and repaying her for everything she's done to us, but that will come in time.  I have a much better plan."

"Perhaps it would simply work better to capture her on her way tomorrow, Lucius—"

Lucius Malfoy stood and glowered down at Wormtail, his eyes rabid.  "I did not break you out of Azkaban to second-guess me, you sniveling excuse for a servant!  You will do as I say and you will not address me by my name!  You called Voldemort your master, did you not?  Well, I am your master now, and soon I will be twice as great as Voldemort ever was!   You do not want to make such mistakes!"

"Yes, master," he whimpered, hiding his face.

"You do not know _half_ of what I do.  To take her now would not only be pointless, but a waste of a wonderful opportunity.  We will wait and bide our time.  Soon, we will have what we need—and more than I ever imagined when I first set out on this quest.  Keep stirring!  This potion needs to be ready when the time comes.  It all begins tomorrow, Wormtail—the first part of the plan is now being set into motion.  And this time no one will be able to stop me."

                                    *                                   *                                   *

The next morning was less hectic than Harry would have imagined.  They ate breakfast and dragged their trunks out into the main area.  Sirius was getting ready to Apparate them onto Platform 9 ¾, and Dumbledore was to come directly to Hogwarts later. 

They arrived at the train station with ten minutes to spare.  Harry hugged his godfather goodbye and Sirius left them with his best wishes for the new school year.  Harry and Hermione casually side-stepped through the barrier and found themselves facing the familiar red and black steam engine.  

Harry fumbled to put on his Prefect badge with one hand—something he'd neglected to do earlier—while Hermione scanned the crowds nervously.  He could see she was hanging back more than she normally would have and he gave her a distracted grin.  "Don't worry—things will be fine."

She noticed his troubles.  In his right hand was Hedwig's cage.  In his left was his badge, which he was trying and failing to attach.  He swore as he stuck himself with the pin and Hermione smiled at him.  "Oh, here," she said, grabbing the badge and putting it on neatly and quickly.

"Thank you.  Bit of a nuisance, that thing," he muttered, rubbing his chest where he'd stuck himself.  

They continued through the crowds, searching for Ron.  It wasn't long before they spotted the familiar crop of red hair standing at least a head above the other, younger students.  He saw them before they saw him, but they found each other quickly nonetheless.  

"Long time no see, guys!" he exclaimed, bending down to give Hermione a hug.  "It's been half a year.  I feel like a stranger."

Hermione laughed.  "You've grown," she commented.

"You've shrunk," countered Ron dryly.  His eye caught the Prefect badge and he groaned. "I should have known.  Prefect compartment's down that way.  Ginny's the fifth year female Prefect.  Another shame to the Weasley family."  He grinned to show he was kidding and Harry knew that he was proud of his little sister.

Ron turned to Harry and the two grinned at each other.  "Nice owls you've been sending, pal.  How long has it been—a month and no word?"

"Sorry.  Been busy, I guess.  Hermione's forced me into studying more often than I'd like to admit to," said Harry.  He absentmindedly rubbed the adjusted the collar of his robes and Ron groaned, catching sight of Harry's Prefect badge.

"Oh, you must be kidding.  I'm surrounded!" he groaned.  "My sister and my two best friends.  I can see Ginny and Hermione—they're the perfect students.  But you?  After everything the two have us have done?  After the flying car?  And knocking out Snape?"

Harry had to laugh at Ron's dampened expression and hurried to intervene before he listed every last one of their misadventures.  "Come on.  You can show us where the Prefect compartment is and sit with us."

"I'm not a Prefect.  I'm not allowed."

"Come anyway," insisted Hermione.  "It's been forever since we've seen each other.  We're not going to sit in separate compartments, too."

"Prefects are supposed to adhere to the rules, not break them," teased Ron, but he led them through the dispersing crowds anyway.  By the time they reached the Prefects' compartment, which was the second car after the engineer's car at the front, it was packed with Prefects.  Ginny smiled and waved at Hermione and Harry when she saw them and fought her way over to the door.

"You're a bit late," she said, motioning at all the other kids, some of whom waved at the trio, while others ignored them entirely.  

"Gee, thanks for pointing that out, Gin," said Ron sarcastically.  Ginny gave him a scowl and an eye roll before turning her attention back to the other two.

"You don't have to sit in this compartment—it isn't required, it's just an option."  She glanced at the clock behind the trio, which read eleven fifty-seven.  "You'll have to find a different one, and fast, I might add.  I'll see you at school, then."

After Ginny had dragged the compartment door closed, the three rolled their trolleys quickly down the train, searching for empty compartments.  At long last, they found one near the end.  They just barely managed to throw all their things inside before the train began to pull away from the platform.  

As Harry and Ron sat down, Hermione struggled to unlock the door of Crookshanks's cage.  A moment later, the cat flew from the box onto the ground, relieved to be free of his prison.  He looked up at Ron with the angry scowl he usually reserved for the boy.  Ron scowled back with a look at Pig, who was bouncing around his cage like a feathery ping-pong ball.  Hedwig watched him from her cage with a look of disdain.

Hermione sat down next to Harry once her cat was free.  Ron had stretched out lengthwise on the seat across from them, using the duffel bag he was carrying for a pillow.  He gave Harry and Hermione a grin.

"What?" asked Hermione a moment later.

He just laughed a little and shook his head.  "Nothing at all.  It's just great to see you."  Hermione accepted this and nodded, picking up her ginger cat and cuddling him.  Harry, however, was not quite so willing to let Ron's comment—which was obviously a lie—go.  He raised his eyebrows.  Ron's eyes flicked to Hermione and back to him, causing Harry to turn red in the neck and look away.  Ron was hard pressed to keep his laughter contained.

"I'm kind of glad we got our own compartment," commented Hermione.  "I didn't really want to be around all the other Prefects.  I'd much rather just be around you two."

Ron nodded understandingly.  Hesitantly, he asked, "So, how have you been?"

"Ron, I appreciate that you haven't mentioned anything of the sort until now.  Don't start," she warned.  "I am beyond tired of everyone tip-toeing around me and asking me how I feel every ten minutes."

Ron gave her a sheepish grin.  "Sorry."

"We've got a ton to tell you," commented Harry, changing the subject quickly.  He rummaged in his trunk for the Pioneer's Map, finally locating it and pulling it out.  He made it appear and handed it to Ron with a wide grin.

Ron, with a look of confusion, accepted the parchment and looked it over.  A moment later, he began grinning widely.  He shook his head and laughed in wonderment.  "I can't believe it!  It's like the Marauder's Map, only for the Forbidden Forest.  How cool is that?"

"If only Fred and George could see this, eh?" said Harry, grinning back, Ron's happiness contagious.

"They can."  Ron glanced up at his two friends with a mysterious grin.  "They've opened their own joke shop in Hogsmeade over the summer.  Just as good—if not better—than Zonko's.  We'll be able to visit them anytime we like!"  

"Not necessarily," contradicted Hermione.  "We'll have to wait for the first Hogsmeade visit, which is traditionally sometime around Halloween."

"Not true.  We've got the Marauder's Map and my Invisibility Cloak, haven't we?" asked Harry mischievously.  "We could go tomorrow.  It's not like Fred and George will rat us out.  Are you kidding?  They'll be impressed."

"You see," began Ron, "_this_ is why Hermione is the Prefect type and you are not.  That's a compliment, by the way, Harry."

"Why, thank you," said Hermione dryly, rolling her eyes.  She picked up one of the books she'd taken from Dumbledore's bookcase and opened it while Harry launched into the story of their summer.

For the majority of the ride, Harry and Ron chatted animatedly about everything from Quidditch to the Pioneer's Map.  Hermione read most of the time, rarely even looking up at either of them.  While those who did not know her would have assumed she were angry with the boys, or simply indifferent to their very existence, Harry knew that her silence symbolized her nerves.  Despite everything he'd said to reassure her, she was still very insecure about what was to come when they arrived at Hogwarts.

Just as the overhead lights in the compartment flickered on as they did when it became too dark to see from natural light, the door to the compartment slid open.  Harry and Ron looked over and even Hermione glanced up from her reading.  Strutting arrogantly into the compartment was Pansy Parkinson, followed faithfully by fellow Slytherin sixth-year, Blaise Zabini.  Harry was strongly reminded of Draco as Pansy began to smile menacingly.  But Draco had one thing over Pansy and the rest of his House—he had changed in the end, something most Slytherins could never hope to do.

"Get out of our compartment," snarled Ron. 

"We were just walking," said Pansy evenly.  "Looking for an empty compartment."

"Oh, please.  You obviously have found a compartment by now, as we've almost reached Hogwarts anyway," said Hermione sarcastically.  "Tell the truth or get out and allow us to return to what we were doing."  To emphasize her point, she picked up her book and began to read again.

"Coincidentally, we were here to see you," said Pansy, sauntering casually over to stand over Hermione.  It was clear that she was trying to look intimidating, but Hermione hardly glanced up, let alone appeared frightened.  Harry couldn't help but think, as he looked at Pansy's build, that she would make a good girlfriend for Dudley.  They were certainly alike when it came to bullying—and in the way of size as well.  _They'd have a problem should they try to kiss, though,_ thought Harry.  _All the fat on both sides would provide quite the barrier._

"Oh?" asked Hermione uninterestedly.  "Whatever for?"

Pansy scowled down at Hermione.  "As if you didn't know.  Despite what lies you may try to fabricate, we know the truth about you.  All of us Slytherins do."

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "What, you think that I'm really a Death Eater traitor as well?  Wouldn't that please you, as the lot of you are Dark supporters anyway?"

Pansy clenched her fist and Ron and Harry immediately tensed, preparing to leap to their feet.  Hermione, however, remained unfazed as Pansy started in again.  "A pathetic Mudblood like you would never be capable of betraying the Light side to the Dark Lord—I'm not _that_ stupid."

"Oh, let's not even get started down that road," Hermione muttered under her breath in response to Pansy's last remark.  She didn't catch it.  Harry did, and had to work hard to conceal a laugh.

"However, Draco was the best of all us Slytherins.  Now he's dead.  Nobody has said how it is that he died."  She glowered.  "I—and many of my friends—have a theory about that.  We think that you killed him."

"Is that the best theory that all the brains in your House could come up with?  That's not exactly complimentary.  If you want to know the truth, here it is:  Draco betrayed us all at first and Dark was about to take over.  I'm sure you would have loved that, but he began to feel guilty for all he'd put me through and decided to stop his father from killing me.  We were roped into running from the Dark Lord and something happened.  Draco changed.  In the end, when we were about to be destroyed by Voldemort, Draco stepped in front of a curse and sacrificed himself for me.  Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Pansy and Blaise laughed.  "That is your story?  What a sad lie.  Draco would never sacrifice himself for any Mudblood—let alone you."  Pansy's smile vanished and she scowled.  "You killed him and we won't stand for it.  Watch your back, Granger, because this year is going to be hell for you.  We'll make sure of it."  She glanced at Harry and Ron.  "Maybe not here, in front of precious Potter and Weasley, but you'll get it.  We can be patient."  With that, Pansy and Blaise backed out of the compartment, still watching them carefully.

As soon as the door was close, Harry and Ron started in on her.  "Are you okay?" asked Harry anxiously.  

"Calm down, I'm fine," she muttered.  Her face was rather pale and Harry could see from his close vantage point that her hands were shaking just a little.  He put one of his hands over hers and raised his eyebrows.  "I'm fine," she repeated fiercely.  "It's Pansy—she's full of empty threats and empty of any intelligence."

"Yeah, but not all Slytherins are," said Ron uncertainly.

"I can take care of myself, guys," she said, a hint of warning in her voice.  "I'll be fine.  Ignore Pansy and her friends.  I'm the one she threatened and I'm not having much problem with it."  She picked her book up again, but her eyes didn't skim the pages, instead staying trained on one spot.  

Harry studied her closely.  If there was one thing he'd learned from past months with her, it was that if she didn't want to show anyone she was frightened or hurting, she wouldn't.  Suddenly he felt a blazing pain in his skull and he gasped slightly.  It wasn't coming from his scar—just his head in general.  He rubbed his temples, but this was not the end of it.  A moment later, he heard thoughts in his head, thoughts spoken clearly in Hermione's voice:  _Ron's right.  Even if Pansy is no more intelligent than Crabbe or Goyle, there are a lot of Slytherins that are.  And if they think I killed Draco, who was revered by all of his House . . ._

The pain in his head faded with the thought and he looked at Hermione, his eyes wide.  She became aware of his gaze and looked up.  Their eyes locked and Hermione could see the panic in his.  Harry remembered that time, many months ago, in Dumbledore's office when he'd received Hermione's thoughts.  He'd forgotten all about it.  Now it was happening again.

"Harry, are you okay?" asked Ron, looking at him strangely.

Harry nodded quickly.  "Yeah.  I'm fine.  I just have a slight headache, that's all."

Ron didn't seem to accept this, but he was stopped from replying by the train beginning to come to a slow halt.  Harry busied himself with collecting his things and Hermione ushered the spitting and clawing Crookshanks back into his cage.  His eyes met hers again during all this and she mouthed the word, "_Later._"  He nodded.

They dragged their trunks out into the darkness and headed for the carriages.  They spotted Hagrid some distance away calling for the first years, but he was distracted by a boy who was panicking loudly at the thought of going in boats across the lake and didn't notice them.

Soon, the three had everything loaded and were being pulled across the grounds at a comfortable canter.  Harry had become quiet after the odd occurrence on the train and said nothing on the ride.  Hermione was quiet also, both from confusion and her worry after Pansy's threat.  Ron tried and failed to make small talk, so the majority of the ride was silent.

They abandoned their supplies in the entrance hall and continued into the Great Hall.  It was only half-full yet, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione managed to find good seats at Gryffindor table.  They were greeted by many people along the way.  As they passed the first years gathering in the entrance hall, Harry felt his cheeks redden as the familiar whispering began and eyes whipped to his scar.  However, Harry noticed that many of the kids were also looking at Hermione with what could only be described as awe.

It was an unfamiliar sensation for both of them, taking their seats.  Many younger students that they'd never met came up to them to shake their hands.  It appeared that Harry's fame had been renewed by his defeat of the Dark Lord, and it was obvious that Hermione was now being revered as well.  Dean, Neville, and Seamus were sitting nearby and gave them both salutations.  "Don't let some people get to you," Seamus advised.  "You deserve every bit of praise you get, and anyone who criticizes deserves to be thrown to the giant squid."

However, with the exception of the dirty glares and angry scowls thrown their way by the Slytherins, it appeared that everyone was quite in awe of them.  Justin came over to say hello to Hermione when he arrived, giving her a proud grin and Harry a thumbs-up.  Jenna, who was now in second year and just as shy as ever, came over just long enough to apologize for ever doubting Hermione's loyalties.

With all the attention the two of them were getting, Harry sent a worried glance at Ron.  He was looking a bit put-out that he was being ignored, but he just gave Harry a small grin.  Harry hoped this wasn't going to come between them like Harry's fame had in their fourth year.  With Hermione receiving attention as well, it might make it even worse.  Harry decided he would make it a point in the future to tell anyone who asked that Ron was just as much a part of it as he or Hermione—without him and Sirius, Hermione might have died before he could have gotten her to help.  The thought made his stomach twinge in a very unpleasant way.

Finally, the talking died away as Dumbledore clapped his hands at the Head Table.  Everyone gave him their attention.  "Welcome, Hogwarts students!" he announced, smiling broadly.  "I am proud to say that Hogwarts is officially repaired and ready to be in session once more!"

Applause rang out through the great hall, accompanied by cheers and whistles and Harry, Hermione and even Ron got pats on the back by their fellow Gryffindors.  All this died away the moment Dumbledore began speaking once more.

"As I see that many of you already realize, this could never have happened without three students who sit before us—as well as one who does not—that risked everything to stop the Dark Lord and at long last succeeded.  I speak of Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley, who sit right now at Gryffindor table."  Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff all began to clap again.  The Slytherins stared menacingly their way, but did not dare make sounds of disapproval in front of Dumbledore and the teachers.  "I cannot, of course, leave out the one student who risked everything and in the end lost it to save us all.  Without him, I doubt that any of this could have come to pass.  I speak, of course, of Slytherin student Draco Malfoy."

There was mixed response to this.  Some Slytherins clapped while others glowered.  Pansy, who had for years fancied Draco, burst into tears.  There weren't many people who responded to this at the other tables, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione made sure to make a big show of clapping themselves.

"These four students are a few of the bravest the wizarding world has ever seen.  We owe them our freedom and safety.  We owe to them the destruction of Lord Voldemort.  I hope you appreciate the sacrifices they have made to put you where you now sit."  Dumbledore glanced around them all and not a single soul missed being touched in some way by his words.

"On the more traditional notes . . .  Due to my responsibilities elsewhere, I will not be here much during this year.  During this time, Professor McGonagall is to be Headmistress.  Professor Snape will fulfill her old position as Deputy Headmaster."  Slytherins and Gryffindors began clapping, each for their respective professor.  McGonagall smiled at them all while Snape just surveyed them with a look of arrogance furthered only by his higher position.  "They will continue to teach their usual subjects.  For the same reason as I, Professor Arabella Figg will not be with us this year.  Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is Professor Adair Rusdorn.  If you would please stand up, Adair . . ."  

A tall man, who was sitting beside Snape, stood.  He had chestnut hair that was layered and messy.  One section of his bangs seemed to stay in his left eye no matter what head movements the man made.  His eyes were a startling blue, and he was deeply tanned.  He smiled at them all warmly, lighting up his face brilliantly.  He was extremely handsome.  He certainly seemed pleasant enough, Harry decided.  He wasn't ready to set his doubts aside, though.  

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who were sitting just a little ways down from the trio, sighed dreamily.  Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Oh, please," she muttered.

"Don't be a hypocrite, Herms," teased Ron.  "Need I remind you of Professor Lockhart?  You were just as bad as they are.  And let's not leave out Krum."

"Okay, I made a mistake with Lockhart, can you ever forget that?  I was _twelve!_" she muttered, her cheeks flushing red.  "But I _did not_ go out with Krum because he was handsome!"

"Right.  It was because he was a famous Quidditch star."

"I think not!  And I warn you, if you keep this up, I will not hesitate to curse you!"

Ron was not ready to give up.  He grinned at her.  "If you didn't like him because he was handsome, then why did you break up with him?"

"That's none of your business," she snapped.  "But if you _must_ know, he was extremely boring.  He had very little intelligence, leaving us with very little to talk about.  All he wanted to discuss was Quidditch and the two of you know how I become quickly uninterested on that particular topic.  He was nice enough—which was why I liked him at first, I may add—but he just wasn't my type intellectually."

Ron nodded and smiled.  "I knew I'd get you to tell me why sooner or later."  Hermione gave an exasperated sigh and muttered something Harry and Ron did not catch—though it sounded suspiciously like, "You are incorrigible, Ronald Weasley!"—only to turn her attention back up to the Head Table, looking rather flustered.

Dumbledore continued.  "Aside from that, I would like to remind all sixth years that your O.W.L.s will be taking place two weeks from tonight and there will be the traditional Prefect meeting after we finish the feast.  I remind all Prefects that you are first to take the students to your Houses, then return to Professor McGonagall's office for the meeting.  That being said—dig in!"

Food appeared before them all and everyone grabbed at some.  Ron heaped his plate with two of everything while Hermione shook her head in exasperation at his never-ending appetite.  Harry grinned at her expression and she returned his smile somewhat sheepishly.  

Harry ate in silence, the thought of what had happened on the train—both to Hermione and to him—worrying him.  Unfortunately, the one night he chose to be silent and withdrawn was the same night that everyone else chose to pay more attention to him than they had since his first few days here.  Colin Creevy, ironically, was the most subdued of them all.  He gave the older boy no more than a small smile and a, "Nice job, Harry."  Harry wished for the days when Colin would have been jumping up and down and snapping photos of every bite Harry ate, for he knew exactly what had Colin so depressed—the death of his brother, Dennis.  Harry immediately felt guilty.  He'd managed to help so many, but he couldn't save Colin's little brother.  He knew his guilt was unfounded—obviously he could not save everyone.  But this fact didn't stop him from sinking even further into himself.

Hermione was also rather quiet during the meal, giving small smiles and quiet replies, but also giving off the impression that she'd rather be alone.  She picked at her food and barely ate a bite.  Harry hadn't seen her go off food since the first few days he'd met up with her over the summer.  It made him long for those days in the clearing—somehow, something within him couldn't allow him to call it the name his father had given it—when she'd been so happy.  When they'd both been so happy.

It seemed to take hours for the meal to end and when it did, Harry and Hermione were forced to meet up with Ginny and Colin, the fifth-year Prefects of Gryffindor, and lead their House up the seven flights of stairs to Gryffindor Tower.  Once again, Harry was stuck with Colin, making him feel beyond awkward.  The young boy, usually so overfilled with energy, was very withdrawn.  His eyes were downcast and he said nothing to anyone.  Ginny stuck by his side most of the time, saying nothing either.

When they reached the portrait hole, Harry realized that he and Hermione did not know the password.  He looked to her, puzzled, but Ginny spoke up, talking mainly to the first years.  "This is the entrance to our House common room.  The password changes periodically, and you will be informed when it does.  For now, the password is _gertsbobbers._  First years please follow us through.  Older students may continue to their dormitories."

Harry and Hermione stayed with Ginny and Colin, though it was Ginny who did all the talking.  Ron left them in the common room, giving Hermione a simple, "goodnight,"; telling Harry: "I pity your poor soul, pal.  Prefect meetings . . . ugh."; and giving Ginny a peck on the cheek.  As Ron normally did no such thing in the privacy of his own home, let alone in front of a whole pack of kids, Harry could only suspect he'd done it to embarrass Ginny.  It worked, as Ginny had turned bright red and snarled at Ron vehemently to go to bed.

At long last, once the common room was cleared, the four Prefects headed back out the portrait hole.  Hermione grabbed Harry's arm as he was about to leave, holding him back.  When Ginny and Colin looked back at them in confusion, Hermione had called, "Tell Professor McGonagall we'll catch up."  Once they were out of sight and the Fat Lady's portrait had swung shut, Hermione took a seat on one of the red velvet couches.  

"It's time we talked about what happened on the train," said Hermione.  Harry was uncertain and looked out of the corner of his eye at the portrait hole.  Hermione saw this and snapped, "You sit down!"  Knowing better than to argue with her when she was in such a temper, Harry took his seat next to her.  

"What is there to talk about?" he asked evasively.

"Why are you so hell-bent on not telling me?" she demanded.  "Judging on your reaction, I'd say it's another one of those visions, or daydreams, or whatever has been happening to us.  If I'm right, why is it so hard to tell me?  Haven't we gone through all this together?"

Harry nodded.  "Yes.  It just hasn't happened in so long . . . I didn't want to bring it back up for you needlessly."

Hermione sighed and gave him a small smile.  "You're very sweet, Harry, but you don't have to protect me.  Just tell me.  It will be easier on the both of us."

Harry nodded.  Choosing his words carefully, trying to make it sound important, but not frightening, he told of his reception of her thoughts during the train ride.  He mentioned how the same thing had happened months before.  She blanched at this and nodded slowly.  "Yes, I was thinking that," she confirmed.  She buried her face in her hands.  "Now we're seeing each other's thoughts.  First of all, having someone read my mind is not ideal in the least.  Second, now all this is escalating even further."

Harry looked at her, slightly hurt.  "You don't think I'd read your thoughts intentionally, I hope?" he asked.  "Never.  That's a complete invasion of privacy.  It was an accident, I don't know how it happened and I certainly can't control it."

Hermione looked up at him and shook her head rapidly.  "No, of course not!  I trust you, Harry.  I'm just saying . . . it feels weird, that's all."

Harry could think of no more to say, so he stood in an attempt to kill the awkward moment.  "Come on.  McGonagall's going to be furious with us."  Hermione nodded and the two headed out the portrait hole.  

The Fat Lady called after them, "School Prefects this year, are you?"  Her voice was warm and happy, and the two didn't have the heart to walk away.  

"Yes," agreed Hermione, giving a small, forced smile. 

"Good for you, then!" she proclaimed, smiling brightly.  "And a wonderful job you two did last year.  I'm proud to have you as students of my House.  You are truly an example to the name of all wizards.  You, in particular, Miss Granger.  Surviving the harshest is part of what Gryffindors are famous for—but something only a select few can actually do."

Hermione nodded and gave another fake smile, and she and Harry headed off down the corridor at a fast pace to reach the Transfiguration room.  Harry grinned at her in the semi-darkness of the school hallway.  "Now you know what it's felt like for me all these years," he commented.

"Bit overwhelming, isn't it?" she asked in a small voice.  "All these people I don't even know congratulating me on something I regard as my most awful memories.  People I do know looking up to me as though I'm higher than them.  I don't like it at all."

"Welcome to my world," said Harry.

They walked for a while in silence, and then Harry broached the delicate subject.  "So you really are worried about what Pansy said."

"No," she denied, "I'm not worried about a petty threat."  She stopped and seemed to consider for a moment.  "And I'm being a fool lying to you about something you read from my own mind."  She was quiet for a moment before nodding a little.  "Yes.  Not so much Pansy, but the Slytherins in general.  I know all too well what their type are like."

"Don't worry," said Harry, his voice harsh.  "If anyone messes with you, Ron and I will hex them into next week."

"Harry, I can take care of myself!  How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Just think of it this way—Ron and I are helping you protect yourself."

Hermione sighed and smiled at him a little.  "There's no way I can win this argument, is there?"

"Not one."

"All right, then," she sighed.  "You win.  But promise you'll at least discuss your revenge plans with me first.  I don't want you getting expelled for my sake."

"I thought you knew us better, 'Mione.  Over our years, Ron and I have become experts at escaping the threat of being expelled!  You don't have to worry about us."

She laughed and they walked the rest of the way in silence avoiding the topic that was weighing on both of their minds—the occurrence on the train.

McGonagall was less than thrilled when they walked in ten minutes late.  All the other Prefects—four from each House, with the exception of Gryffindor, who only had Ginny and Colin right then—were already seated and glared at them.  "You're supposed to be setting examples, Mr. Potter!  Being late to your first Prefect meeting does not do that.  You watch yourselves—Prefects can be changed at any time."

Despite her threat, Harry wasn't all that worried.  Gruff and harsh on the exterior, McGonagall had a good heart with a special place in it for Hermione.  Harry figured she might have a semi-special place in there somewhere for him as well, but he'd never been entirely sure.

The Prefect meeting could only be described as dull.  Though Hermione was listening attentively the whole way through, Harry had slumped down in his chair with his eyes half-closed by the time the meeting was half over.  He couldn't help but think that perhaps Ron was right—the life of a Prefect was not for him.  _Well, the bathroom is worth it at least, _he thought with a final yawn as he nodded off.

He awakened to a sharp prodding in the side sometime later.  Looking around himself, he found that he was the only one still in his chair.  Hermione was shaking him awake and McGonagall was staring down at him.  Under her gaze, he leaped to his feet.  The world spun around him from standing too fast, but he showed no signs of it.

"It was nice to have the both of you with us," said McGonagall with a smile to Hermione.  She gave Harry a bemused look.  "And Mr. Potter, boring as meetings may get, I ask you to please remain among the conscious next time.  Miss Granger, I trust you'll fill him in on what was said?"

"Yes, Professor," agreed Hermione.

McGonagall gave Hermione a pat on the shoulder.  "It's good to have you with us again."  She smiled at Hermione brightly, and Hermione nodded a little.

Harry left the room hurriedly in case McGonagall decided to lose her good temper and begin deducting House points.  Hermione followed a moment later at a more leisurely pace.  She shot him a grin.  "Have a nice nap, then?"

"Wonderful.  What was it, ten minutes?"  Harry said nothing more as they walked up the stairs to Gryffindor.  Harry was dead on his feet from exhaustion and Hermione lagged behind him some, walking at a much slower pace.  

Finally, the reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who grumbled when they awakened her.  "First the fifth-year Prefects, now you two!  Do try to stay together next time.  It's bad enough to be awakened once, but twice?  Now go to bed!"  With that, she swung open, still grumbling angrily.

"Goodnight, Hermione," said Harry softly when they reached the common room.  She returned the comment and bounded off up the girls' stairs.  Though she didn't seem depressed, she was definitely more reserved and withdrawn than she had been.  Despite his exhaustion, Harry fell to a seat on the couch and stared into the roaring flames of the dying fire.  He'd thought that coming back to Hogwarts, his one true home, would make everything easier.  But it appeared that the solace the summer had provided was indeed past them now and the troubles were rearing their ugly heads again.

Harry dragged himself up the stairs and into his dormitory, falling into bed with a tired sigh.  Of the other four boys, Ron and Neville were snoring loudly on opposite sides of the room.  Dean and Seamus had the hangings on their beds drawn back and were talking quietly by the light of Dean's wand.  They gave him small waves as he entered, which he was too tired to return.  Not even bothering to change his clothes or pull off his shoes, he fell into a deep sleep with the prayer that tomorrow would hold better things.

********

A/n:  I'm currently a few chapters ahead of where you are.  Page 188 to be exact.  I haven't even begun to really scratch the surface at that far into it.  This fic will be longer than Destiny's Path, which was a round 260.  Much longer.  Like 350 or something.  Also, there are no lyrics in this chapter because I couldn't find any to fit what happens in this one.  Any suggestions?


	11. Destiny's Struggle 1

A/n:  Hey, all!  Here's the next part of Destiny's Shadows.  I had to divide this chapter in two, and the main action is in this part.  The next part will be a little slow, but not too bad, I hope.  I'm rather pleased with this part for some reason.  I hope you are, as well.   Lyrics in this chapter were provided by Macbeth W. Cauldrina.  Thank you, and please review!

::: 11 :::

Destiny's Struggles part 1

_"And though I know who I'm not,_

_I still don't know who I am._

_But I know I won't keep playing the victim."_

_--Alanis Morissette_

It was hard for Harry to find the strength and will to force himself to his feet the next morning.  He'd delayed adamantly for over twenty minutes, once even throwing a copy of _The_ _Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six _at Ron.  Ron had finally tired of Harry's refusal to awaken and had pulled his wand on him.  Harry had hesitation in admitting that he would not have made it to his first class at all that morning had Ron not put a Tickling charm on him, which made him roll on the floor laughing until his breath was scarce for nearly a minute.

Needless to say, tension between the two boys was high as they made their way down to the Great Hall for what was left of breakfast.  Harry was desperately attempting to tame his wild hair, which he'd not bothered to brush.  Over the months, he'd grown used to having some semblance of control over it—now it was back to the way it always had been, on this day at least.  Harry sighed and gave it up as they stepped through the doorway.  It wasn't like he hadn't been dealing with that particular problem for fifteen years anyway.

Hermione beckoned to them from a corner of Gryffindor table.  Harry noticed she'd slid as far away from most people as she could, while keeping Ginny close so as to look busy.  Harry and Ron settled themselves across from the two girls and began to put food onto their plates quickly, not wanting it to vanish before they'd gotten any.  Hermione handed them each a piece of paper.

"Course schedules," she said.  "I was given yours, due to your tardiness."

Ron rolled his eyes.  "Jeez, you make it sound like we've committed a heinous crime.  '_Tardiness_,'; why can't you just say we're late?"  It was obvious his temper was stretched, though as he was usually this sarcastic anyway, it took someone who knew him well to notice that.  He jerked his thumb in Harry's direction.  "Besides, blame him.  He's the one I had to hex just to get him out of bed."

"Stop with the sarcasm, Ron," warned Hermione, giving him a look that made her look like a younger version of Professor McGonagall.  

"Sorry.  But my last comment was not sarcastic," Ron said with an air of a person defending himself.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and looked at Harry, who was sitting across from her.  Harry glowered at Ron, who just continued to eat in a unconcerned manner.  "It wasn't a hex—it was just a Tickling Charm.  He's exaggerating—I wasn't _that_ bad."

Ron waved his hand negligently.  "Charm, hex, what's the difference?  It was effective, nonetheless.  And let me assure you, Hermione, that he was indeed that bad."

Harry didn't even bother with a reply to this, though he could feel his cheeks flush a little as Hermione chuckled.  He knew she wasn't making fun of him—simply finding amusement in his obstinacy.  It could be worse.  He picked up his course schedule and began to look it over.  His eyes narrowed after a moment.  This schedule was different than what he was accustomed to.

"It says here I'm in advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Charms.  Advanced?"  This question was directed mainly at Hermione, who was most likely to understand this.  Sure enough, she did not disappoint him.

"In sixth and seventh year, students are divided between basic and advanced classes.  The teachers choose who is suited for what.  You have mostly advanced, which is good; I have all advanced, so we'll be together."  She frowned at her schedule.  "Except for Potions.  I'm in basic Potions."

"No major loss there," muttered Ron, picking up his schedule to look it over for the first time.

"But why?" she questioned.  "I'm more than capable—Snape may hate me, but even he can't deny that my marks in Potions have always been the highest.  I don't see how he can place me in basic with justification."

"Snape doesn't need justification, Hermione," said Ginny ruefully.  "He's just a sadistic man who plays favorites."

"Talk to him about it," suggested Harry as Ron nodded vigorously in response to Ginny's comment, his mouth too full to utter a single intelligible word.  "I'm in basic too, though I've never showed much talent for the subject, so I can see why.  I guess I'm in advanced everything, except for Astrology, Divination, and Potions."

"I'm sure you're missing a lot in advanced Divination," said Hermione dryly.  "To think you could have been in a class which introduces more ways for Trelawny to predict your death.  What a devastating loss."

"Hypocrite," teased Ron.  "Just a moment ago you were telling me not to be sarcastic, now you're doing it yourself."  He looked at his schedule again.  "I've got the same advanced subjects as Harry does, except for Herbology.  I suppose flunking the class last year didn't help my shot of getting into advanced."

"Today we've got Double Potions first, then we have Care of Magical Creatures.  Then there's lunch and I have Arithmancy and you have Divination," read Hermione.  "Not too bad."

"Yeah, except for the Double Potions part."  This seemed to remind Ron of their earlier discussion.  "Are you seriously going to talk to Snape about advanced Potions?" he demanded, around a mouthful of food.  "It's hard enough as it is.  Besides, you'll be alone with the Slytherins—Harry and I are staying basic.  Even if we wanted to go with you, Snape would never let us."

At the mention of the Slytherins, Hermione busied herself with her book bag.  Though Ron didn't seem to notice that he'd done anything wrong, Harry could tell that this was not the most pleasant of ideas for her.  However, knowing Hermione, she would not let the Slytherins scare her away from any advanced class.

Hermione stood abruptly, making Harry and Ron look up at her in confusion.  "Come on, then.  I'd like to talk to Professor Snape before class begins, so we'll need to start down now."

Ron looked scandalized at the prospect of leaving the food, but Harry pulled him up by the collar with no regard for his reaction.  In his opinion, he had nowhere near paid Ron back for waking him so harshly, and tomorrow, Ron was in for a rude awakening of his own.  Ron grabbed a last biscuit and waved a goodbye to Ginny, who was summoning over a few of her fifth-year friends to sit with, before Harry and Hermione had succeeded in dragging him from the Great Hall.  On their way out, Harry noticed the Slytherins watching them with the eyes of hawks.  There was a great deal of whispering as they passed.  Hermione pretended she did not notice, but Harry knew she was far too sharp to have missed it.  However, he dared not bring it up.  If she wanted to say something, she would do so herself.

Just as they were turning the corner into the hallway that would lead them to the stairwell to the dungeons, Harry ran into someone.  He stumbled backwards, grabbing desperately at his books, which threatened to tumble from his bag at any moment.  Hermione stopped him from falling at the last second, and they all looked up to see who they'd run into.

It was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Adair Rusdorn.  He looked down at them with a murmured, "Terribly sorry," and began to step around them.  Suddenly, he stopped, seeming to notice them for the first time.  His face was lit by a brilliant smile.  Harry remembered Lockhart's charming smiles, but somehow this man was different.  There was no phoniness or narcissism to this man's smile—simply a pleasant humor that had the effect of gaining someone's trust effortlessly.  There was something within him that made Harry hold back from doing that just yet.  He'd learned too well what happened when you trusted someone so quickly.

"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger," he said, grinning at them both.  He crossed his arms, giving them the once-over.  Up close, they realized just how young he looked—certainly no older than twenty-five.  He was also not the least bit slimy, no trace of anything that would mark him as someone Severus Snape would associate with.  "Quite the famous pair, you two have become.  It's a pleasure to meet you."

Harry and Hermione shook his hand and Ron did as well, introducing himself.  When he stated his last name, Rusdorn raised his eyebrows.  "Weasley?  No relation to the hooligans running that new joke shop in Hogsmeade, by any chance?  What was it called . . . Weasley's Wizard Weezers?"

"Wheezes," Ron corrected, nodding.  "Yeah, they're my older brothers.  Why?"

Rusdorn laughed.  "Pair of troublemakers, those two.  Second I stepped into their shop and told them I was to be filling the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, they were all over me.  Trying to 'help' me, they said.  They had great fun in accidentally setting loose many items on me."

Ron was smiling and nodding.  "Yeah, that's Fred and George for you.  No respect for authority.  It's why they're so well loved."

The easy feeling this man was spreading was contagious; Harry couldn't help it—he smiled in spite of himself.  Rusdorn certainly seemed to be the nice sort.  They talked for a few minutes longer, long enough for Harry to find out that Rusdorn had been lined up for the English International Quidditch team as a Keeper.  That did it for Harry—he couldn't help but like this guy.  He noted out of the corner of his eye that Hermione was still not smiling.  She nodded a little at times and was polite as always, but no more.

Rusdorn checked his watch.  "I think we're all going to be late now.  It was nice to meet you all.  I'll see you in my class sometime soon, I hope."  With some cheery goodbyes from Ron and Harry, Rusdorn dashed away.

"He's brilliant," said Ron with a laugh.  "And you said Snape hired him?  Must have been a mistake . . . Snape would never hire anyone that cool, especially for the position he's wanted for years . . ."

"Come on," said Hermione impatiently.  "I've lost my opportunity to speak with Professor Snape by now, and we're going to be late on top of everything if we don't hurry."

Harry and Ron followed her instructions, but as they jogged down the stairs and into the dungeons, the talk stayed on the topic of Rusdorn and, of course, Quidditch.  Finally, Harry asked Hermione, "What do you think of him?  You've been awfully quiet, and you're usually the first to critique new teachers." 

She just shrugged.  "He seems nice."

"_Nice_?" asked Ron.  "He's amazing!  He was a superb Quidditch player—how is it that the best adjective you know is '_nice'_?  You, Miss I've-got-the-full-contents-of-a-dictionary-stored-in-my-brain?"

Hermione scowled at him.  "How do you know he was such a fantastic player—because he told you he was?  Have you ever seen him play?  No.  You talked with the man for what, five minutes?  Already, you're acting like he's a national hero, or something.  I, personally, am going to wait to make a judgment, even if you're gullible enough to be roped into loving him already."

"Gullible?" demanded Ron.  He and Harry's earlier quarrel seemed to have been forgotten, but he was still not in the best of tempers.  "And you're some expert on the topic of hidden agendas?"

Hermione just looked at her feet.  "I never said that," she said in a low, emotionless tone.  "All I mean is that I've been through enough to have trouble trusting people easily."

Ron lapsed into silence, knowing he'd gone too far without meaning to.  Luckily, they reached the dungeons at about this time and the heavy silence was not so noticeable when they entered Snape's classroom.  The three slid into seats at a table near the back and far away from the Slytherins, not that there were many.  Most Slytherins, favored as always by the Potions Master, had been placed in the advanced class.  Of thirty students, Harry could only spot five Slytherins, three of whom he barely knew by sight.  The other two were Crabbe and Goyle, whom Harry supposed not even Snape could find good excuse to place in an advanced course.  They were looking utterly lost and even more dense than usual without Malfoy, their leader.  Harry felt a small pang of sadness at the thought of Malfoy, but shoved it aside, replacing it with a query as to how Crabbe and Goyle had even managed to escape Azkaban after showing their true colors as Death Eaters the year before.

If Snape had any recollection of the few events that had gone on between he and Hermione the year before, he showed no sign of it.  He smirked at them dangerously and Harry stared him down, his hatred for the Potions Master resurfacing after a summer of freedom from his tyrannical classroom.  This was to be a year in which they definitely did not want to anger Snape—with his position of Deputy Headmaster, there was no telling the types of punishments that they would receive.

Snape raised his wand and the door slammed shut behind Harry.  It slammed in the faces of two Gryffindors who were hurrying to get inside.  Snape, finding this amusing, looked at them all with a wide sneer.  "Welcome to basic Potions.  This is the class in which the less capable are placed—namely, this class will consist of mainly Gryffindors."  He paused to allow himself a second sickening sneer and the few Slytherins there had to opportunity to guffaw loudly, apparently not understand that by doing so, they were laughing at themselves for being as stupid as the Gryffindors allegedly were.

"As you've proven yourselves incompetent at what we've been doing up until this point, we will begin a long stretch of review.  We will start by brewing the Nagillus Potion.  It is a simple potion, of course, one I would expect all sixth years to be able to do.  It is one you've done before, so I won't be giving you instruction on it.  It's all in your books, if you can manage to flip through the pages successfully.  Can anyone tell me what this potion does—and _only_ what it does?  _No_ instructions on brewing it."  The look he gave them all would not be forgotten—no one would dare go against this order.

Immediately, Hermione's hand flew up.  Harry felt that this would be a common occurrence throughout this class period, with her determination to prove herself worthy of advanced Potions.  Snape surveyed them all, his eyes sliding past Hermione as though she hadn't made any motion to indicate she knew.  

"How sad.  A sixth year class who cannot even tell me the uses of the simple Nagillus Potion?  Rather pathetic, really.  Longbottom!  Tell me one thing Nagillus can be used for."

Neville, who had a hard enough time talking to a nice teacher when he was prepared, practically jumped out of his skin at being addressed as such.  His mouth went open and closed many times, no sounds coming out except small squeaks.  "I-I d-don't know, s-sir," he stammered at long last, voice quivering, sounding terrified.

"Pity," said Snape, though his eyes danced gleefully, contradicting his words.  "Ten points from Gryffindor.  Does anyone else care to have a go?  Mr. Potter, perhaps?  Your fame seems to have grown to new proportions—is there any chance your intellect has done the same?"

Harry went very red in the face, hating the fact that he would have to admit that he hadn't the slightest idea what the Nagillus Potion was used for.  Just as he opened his mouth to say he hadn't a clue, Hermione's elbow collided gently with his rib.  He looked at her and with her eyes, she motioned him to look down at the table.  He did, being careful not to move his head as Snape was watching him very closely.  On a piece of parchment in front of her was the short description.  He began to read:  "The Nagillus Potion is used for—"

"_SILENCE_!" howled Snape.  His black eyes were alive with anger and he stared at Hermione with a deep loathing.  "Miss Granger!  How often do I have to remind you not to deliberately go behind my back and tell your classmates something they should already know?!"

"I didn't tell Harry anything, sir," she said, not quailing under his livid gaze.  Her voice was remarkably steady and even Harry, had he not known the truth, would have believed her.

"Writing him a note is the same thing!  Do you think I'm blind?  Could you have been any more obvious?  I did not ask _you_ to tell me what the potion is used for, I asked Potter!  Is your faith in him so little that you feel it necessary to answer for him?  I can easily see how that would be, but aren't you supposed to be his _friend_?"  he snarled.  Suddenly, he sneered.  "I would have thought that being placed in the class for the _less qualified_ would have dampened your insufferable spirits—would have thought you'd be a bit less eager to answer every question that comes along.  Apparently I was wrong.  But then, being the best in a class of idiots is not much of a compliment, is it?  I welcome you to the title, Miss Granger.  Queen of the Fools you are.  Are you satisfied, now?"

Hermione was quite red with embarrassment by this time and she was trembling with either anger or fear, but her eyes did not leave Snape's, nor did her expression waver.  "I apologize for helping my friend when he needed to understand something.  I was under the impression that that was what school was for—learning.  And when the teacher isn't qualified to teach his subject, it is necessary for the students to learn _somewhere_, wouldn't you agree?  If the students should know this by now, I wonder why so many do not?  Who can I trace that back to?"

The room had gone deathly still and silent.  Never, in any of their years, had anyone spoken to Professor Snape in such a manner.  Certainly, kids had argued or even insulted him at times, but no one had ever done so to such a blatant degree.  Perhaps most shockingly of all was that this was Hermione Granger speaking—perfect student and prefect who, with the exception of Professor Trelawny, had never given a professor a foul word to their face in her life.  Everyone was staring at her—Ron's mouth had dropped open so far it was nearly touching the desk—but she didn't seem to notice.  Her eyes were still set firmly on the Potions Master, who stood motionless and unreadable in front of them all.  Harry knew now that she was trembling mostly from anger, though he'd have been surprised to hear that at least some of it didn't come from terror as well.  Snape's face was now contorting itself into such a pure form of loathing and disgust that Harry winced inwardly.  A lot of Snape's ugliest expressions had been directed at him in his six years here, but even he had never seen Snape look at him with this much anger.

He hissed through his clenched teeth, "Granger!  _In_—_my_—_office_—_now_!  The rest of you—brew your potions!  Have them done in an hour or you all get zeros!"  He glared at Hermione, who was standing up to follow his instructions.  He then stalked out of the room and into the office connected to it.  

Severus Snape's office was well known to be a dangerous place.  It was as feared and avoided as Filch's office.  Very few went in there and those who did rarely emerged as confident as they had been going in.  There had been rumors that he tortured some kids in there, though Harry didn't believe it.  Certainly he thought Snape capable of such a thing, he just knew that under Dumbledore's watchful eye Snape would never have gotten away with any such act.  _But Dumbledore's not here today,_ a voice reminded Harry.  He began to feel a pang of worry for Hermione as she straightened her desk slowly, taking her time and not caring that she was only making things worse by forcing the man to wait.  Obviously she was not frightened, but Harry was a different story.

"Are you _mad?_" hissed Ron, disbelief still etched in his every feature.  "Talking that way to Snape!  You're asking for an early funeral, Hermione!  Of all the teachers to pick to finally start talking back, you have to pick him!"

"Why not him?" she demanded.  "He's been tormenting me mercilessly for years because I'm a Gryffindor Muggle-born who is friends with the both of you and can always answer everything he says.  He hates that I show up his own House half the time.  The only reason he didn't advance me to the next Potions level is because he's a biased piece of scum—and I'm not afraid of him.  I'll get detention and lose House points—I'm so very terrified."

Ron was just shaking his head at her.  "If this were occurring at any other time, I'd be laughing at your audacity.  But the fact is you're crazy!  I've heard how maniacal he can get if someone _really_ pisses him off—I think you've done that.  He did tell you to come to his office, too.  He didn't just shout at you in front of everyone, which he'd normally have done to humiliate you and make the other Gryffindors turn against you."

"There's a whole class out here, Ron," she told him logically, her face still red, a frown of anger set in her expression.  "What do you think he's going to do?  And I've faced a lot worse than Professor Snape.  He's been thrown rather low on my list of frightening people."

"I dunno, Hermione," muttered Harry, speaking up for the first time.  "Remember third year when Sirius escaped?  I'd never seen him so mad.  He looked ready to kill.  He probably would have killed if he'd gotten the opportunity—seemed pretty keen to strangle me at the time.  He looked just as mad a moment ago, only his voice wasn't raised."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh and glared at the two boys.  "_Honestly_!  You two are as bad as my parents.  Personally, I think you're overreacting just a _lot_—"

"MISS GRANGER!  _GET_—_IN_—_HERE_!"

The room seemed to shake with the words that exploded from the open door of Snape's office.  Neville, more nervous than ever thanks to Snape's horrible mood, jumped a foot in the air and spilled a whole bottle of golden liquid into his cauldron.  It began to hiss and bubble in a way it shouldn't have, and many students began to scramble to get out of the way of what they felt was an impending explosion.

Hermione gave her two friends once last withering look and turned and marched straight to the front of the classroom and into Professor Snape's office.  A moment later, the door slammed shut.  Everyone who was not busy getting far away from Neville and his dangerously spitting cauldron was staring mutely at the door.  The Gryffindors were all quite shocked at the behavior from their perfect classmate and didn't seem to care about the fact that neglecting their potions meant a zero for their first grade of the school year.  Neville looked over to Harry once his cauldron began to settle and Harry could see how the boy's facial complexion had turned from rosy to white in a clear sign of nerves.

"Has she lost her senses?" he asked, his voice high-pitched.  "Talking that way to Snape . . . Merlin . . ."

"Crazy—definitely," remarked Lavender Brown.  "Everything that's happened must have addled her brain."

"Oh, yeah.  But that has to be the coolest thing I've ever witnessed!" called Dean Thomas triumphantly.  "This'll go down in the record books for years.  I reckon she's the first to ever talk to Snape like _that!_"

The explosion of shouts from Snape's office halted all the excited murmuring.  No one could make out the words, as they were muffled by the door and the wall, but they could all tell it was Snape's voice shouting in very acute anger.

"Yeah," said Ron, once the yells had died.  He threw his textbook into his empty cauldron and sat back in his chair, staring at the closed door with a look of apprehension and disgust on his face.  "Brilliant plan of hers, wasn't it?  What has gotten into her?"

Harry, who had been about to add a remark of his own, was stopped when a sharp pain hit his chest.  It was so painful that it felt as though someone was stabbing him.  It faded away, only to come again to a lesser intensity and a word flitted across his mind for the briefest of instants—_Hermione._  And suddenly it was clear as day to him, though when he looked back on it even after he understood everything, he still was unsure as to how the realization dawned.  Hermione was in trouble.

He leaped to his feet, throwing his chair backwards into the table behind him and splattering some of the potion that two of the Slytherin boys had been brewing all over the desk and floor.  Their protests fell on deaf ears, as did Ron's confused yells.  Again the class was consumed by mutters as Harry ran for the door of Snape's office, giving no warning as to why.

When Harry reached the door, he twiddled the knob to find it locked.  Growling, he pulled out his wand.  

Behind him, he heard Ron yell, "What in Merlin's name are you doing?  Have you bloody well lost your mind?  He'll kill you!" 

He heard Neville's shaking response.  "First Hermione, now him.  They're all going nutters!"

None of this really sank in until later, though, when he would review this moment and ponder it.  Instead he snarled, "_Alohomora!"_  He heard the distinctive click and threw the door open.  

Before him, Hermione had her back to him.  She was slowly backing towards the door he'd just thrown open, one hand to the side of her face.  She seemed to be in shock, or a deep stupor. Snape was yelling words that the blood pounding in Harry's ears didn't allow him to comprehend.  Snape had his fist raised.  Harry had always had the ability to quickly analyze and assess situations and this one took him less than five seconds.  Snape had struck Hermione at least once and was preparing to do it again.

Everything stopped when he entered.  Hermione quickly made her way over to Harry, who immediately put a protective arm around her.  She was shaking and looked terribly upset.  Her breathing was somewhat irregular, a clear sign that she was very frightened.

"Potter, what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" snarled Snape.  "I had my door locked for a reason!  You think you have the right to come bursting in here at any time you damn well please!  I was in the middle of talking to a student—something you should know if you had an ounce of intelligence in that skull of yours."

"Doesn't look like talking to me," said Harry, his voice containing a warning edge.  He drew Hermione back as Snape took a step forward.  "Looks like you hit her.  And no matter how much Dumbledore trusts you and lets you get away with, if he knew you'd hit a student, things could become very different.  For one, your position as Deputy Headmaster would be taken away in an instant."

"You can't prove anything," said Snape, looking a little concerned and hiding it well.  "And exactly how do you know that your perception of things are correct?"

"Oh, I'll bet you I can prove it," replied Harry, though he had no real idea how he could.  He gave Hermione a side glance, just to verify what he already knew.  "He did, right?"  She nodded.  Her eyes were downcast.  

"Dumbledore isn't here to sense anything's happened."

"Professor McGonagall will be just as harsh—probably even harsher—as Dumbledore would have been.  She'll believe us.  She doesn't like you and Hermione's her favorite student.  She probably won't take too kindly to this."  He began to steer Hermione toward the door.  "Let's go, 'Mione."  He gave Snape one last glare.  "If you ever go near her—or anyone else—again, I promise you I won't hesitate to attack.  And don't think I'm too frightened, because I'm not.  As far as the fact that you're just a spy for Dumbledore goes, I'm not so sure I've ever believed that.  And spying can go two ways."  Snape just watched them leave, his face a blotchy white-red.  He didn't beg or attempt to blackmail them—such groveling would be below him—but was shocked at Harry's arrival and knowledge of the situation, and his own reaction.

Harry and Hermione were greeted by a bombardment of questions, especially when they saw Hermione's state.  Ron was the first to greet them, shouting at everyone else to get out of their way.  Harry told Ron to collect their things and bring them out into the hall.  He wasn't going to stick around for the rest of this class and he doubted Snape would expect them to.  Ron did this without question, though he looked nervously at Harry.  It was obvious that something—Snape—had Harry extremely wound up.  It was rare to see Harry sink to this kind of seething anger.  He could only think that he had been right—Snape had hurt Hermione.

Once they were gathered in the corridor outside the dungeons, Hermione began to tell them what had happened, starting with when she'd walked in.  She had regained much of her composure, but still looked rather shaken.  Her face was a disturbing cross between ashen and crimson.  

"He was furious," she said with an air of someone who knew they were stating the obvious.  "I'd never seen the man so crazed.  He was shouting and threatening me with everything from detention to three hundred points from Gryffindor to expulsion.  He even called me a Mudblood a few times.  I wasn't in the best of moods and began to get angry and be sarcastic.  He just—snapped.  He strode forward and backhanded me round the jaw before I even knew what had happened.  Then Harry came in and . . . you know."  She massaged her jaw.  "It hurts something awful.  I hope it isn't out of alignment or anything."

If anything, Ron looked more horrified by this story than Hermione did.  "That son of a . . . I'll kill him!  Who the hell does he think he is, walking around and hitting students?  This will get him fired if I have anything to do with it!"

"I know.  I'm going straight to McGonagall once her Transfiguration class is out.  It won't help Snape's case that Hermione and I are prefects."

"Not to mention famous and revered," added Ron.  "This'll get that man at long last.  I'd still like to strangle him, though."

"Oh, do calm down," insisted Hermione with a frown.  "Obviously this is not a good thing, but it's not call for murder."

"He had _no_ right, 'Mione," chimed Harry.  "Though I'll agree murder is an inappropriate action, I'd still like to mess him up a bit."

"Oh, I'm not even going to start," she growled, mostly to herself.  She checked her watch.  "Come along, then.  McGonagall doesn't have a class this period.  She offered me extra tutoring this period if I were behind from last year or just wanted to get ahead.  We can go now.  This will all be worth it if we get him out of Hogwarts at long last.  It hurts to talk, so lets just go, all right?"  With that, she began to march ahead, a regained purpose in her step.

"Barking mad," hissed Ron to Harry as they hurried to follow.  "What's gotten into her?"

Though Harry just gave a shrug, he personally felt that it wasn't what had gotten into Hermione so much as what had gotten out.  Throughout their years—though she'd lightened up a lot by fourth year—she had always felt that failing classes and getting detentions and being expelled were the worst things that could happen to a person.  Last year she'd been put through so much more, her perspective had changed.  No longer were things like that so important—they now must seem quite trivial.  Harry supposed that while it had weakened her in ways, it had also made her a lot stronger.  It would take him a while to get used to her new personality—for now, she was completely unpredictable.

When they'd made it to the third floor, following Hermione at a pace that was far too quick, they were panting.  Still Hermione didn't stop, though her bag weighed roughly as much as Harry's and Ron's did combined.  McGonagall's door was open.  Hermione continued inside, not stopping until she was just in front of McGonagall's desk.  Harry and Ron caught up a moment later.  

McGonagall didn't look up right away, but when she did, she let out a small gasp.  "Dear girl, what happened?"

The side of Hermione's face was much more noticeable now that the rest of it had gone back to its normal color.  The red area around her jaw stuck out very obviously and from the way Hermione winced when she touched it, Harry was sure it was hurting her.  He felt a seething anger burn to life again but suppressed it, knowing Hermione was annoyed enough with them for being so eager to harm Snape, though he couldn't see why.

Hermione told McGonagall the same story she'd told Harry and Ron.  Harry verified his parts and Ron nodded vigorously the whole time.  As the story unfolded, McGonagall seemed to grow steadily more angry.  Finally, she set down her quill and stood.  Short though she was, when she was angry, she had the ability to make herself look terribly imposing.  Her breath was coming in short puffs from her nose, making her look somewhat like a bull.

"I will state here without shame that I have disliked Severus from the moment the Headmaster hired him.  I've never felt Dumbledore's trust was completely well-placed in the man, but loyal as I am to him, I did not question it.  We've had our rivalries for years, but _never_ has he done . . . that is to say that never have I heard of him doing . . . anything of this sort!  I will, of course, discuss this with Albus, but if it is up to me—and I _am_ acting Headmistress—he will be thrown out by tonight!"  She looked over the three students.  Harry was looking somewhat appeased and nodded gratefully.  Ron looked as though it had just been announced that both his birthday and Christmas would be taking place the next day.  Hermione was nodding a little, rubbing her jaw and looking rather subdued now that she'd done what she had so fiercely intended to do.  McGonagall patted Hermione's shoulder.  "Are you all right?"

She nodded quickly.  "Oh, yes.  It just hurts, that's all."

McGonagall gave her a sympathetic smile.  "Head down to the hospital wing.  Poppy will be able to fix that up in seconds, I daresay.  It won't be another long stay, don't worry."  

Hermione nodded and thanked the professor before turning and walking out of the room, her steps much slower than they had been coming in, a great deal of the light gone from her eyes.  Ron trailed after her.  Harry, instead of following his friends, stayed still for some reason.  He watched their retreating backs—Hermione's in particular.  Again, that familiar sharp pain was attacking his chest.  It came in short bursts, painful for a moment, then fading for several before returning again.  It had been bothering him since he'd first sensed Hermione was in danger.  Which brought up another puzzle—how had he known that with so little doubt?  It hadn't even been as though he'd suspected it—he'd known it without question.  What was this odd pain and why was it always connected to Hermione?

McGonagall gave Harry a pat on the shoulder similar to the one she'd given Hermione.  "Don't worry, Mr. Potter.  She'll be fine.  Snape will be out of here, suspended at the very least.  Now go off and join your friends."

Harry could feel his cheeks burning at the way she'd stated Hermione would be fine.  For a moment, he'd seen the smile that had crossed her face—exactly like Sirius's months before.  Did everyone know how he felt about her?  Was he really that transparent?

Harry wandered out of the room slowly.  By the time he reached the hallway outside the classroom, Ron and Hermione were far ahead of him.  Though he felt tempted to run and catch up, he decided not to.  His thoughts were completely disarrayed and he needed some time to work them out.  He glanced at a clock overhead and realized that there was still half of the double period for sixth years left.  They still had an hour.  Kids in different years were beginning to wander the halls now, but no one Harry knew too personally.

They reached the hospital wing quickly and it took less than five seconds after they'd stepped through the doorway for Madam Pomfrey to notice them and bustle over.  "Oh, you three!" she cried.  "I don't believe I've ever had such frequent patients!  Then again, Remus Lupin may rival you in that category . . . but then, he had an excuse.  You three are just plain danger-prone!  Who is it this time?  One of you, I suppose?"  She was staring pointedly at Harry and Hermione.  Ron, eager to escape the gaze of her vulture-like pupils, was happy to step aside.

"Me," said Hermione after a moment's hesitation, stepping forward.

Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue disapprovingly at the sight of Hermione's face, upon which a bruise was beginning to form.  "You young people . . . always fighting!  At least most of you have the sense to use your wands.  Physical Muggle fights are just plain senseless!"  Her eyes flicked momentarily over Hermione's prefect badge and she shook her head sadly.

"I wasn't fighting," Hermione hurried to correct the nurse.  "I was just hit."

The nurse narrowed her eyes in anger.  "So much violence in this school!" she began and Harry could feel another one of her mad rants coming on.  He rolled his eyes.  Just when they thought they'd headed one of them off, she found something else to start ranting about.  "Every week we have patients in here for fighting or being cursed or one thing or another.  And who struck you?  I suppose it was one of the Slytherins?  It's always one of your two Houses, one attacking the other.  Usually Slytherins attacking Gryffindors, but if I'm heard saying that, I'll be losing my job . . ." 

Hermione seemed quite hesitant to answer this, so Harry stepped in.  "Yeah, it was a Slytherin," said Harry bitterly.  "If you count the Head of their House."  

This seemed to shock even Madam Pomfrey into silence.  "Snape did this?" was all she said.

"I know it sounds absurd—" began Hermione, but she was cut off.

"Oh, not at all," said Madam Pomfrey.  "I've been saying for years that he's capable, but am I ever listened to?  Never . . . and what happens when I'm not listened to?  People get hurt!"

This was the end of the discussion and within five minutes, Hermione's jaw was back to normal.  They walked headed out of the hospital wing just as quiet as they'd been coming in.  It was Hermione who spoke first, as they instinctively wandered in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, though they had no real idea where they were going.  

"Let's go down to Hagrid's," she suggested.  "We have his class next anyway.  We'll just talk to him until it begins."

Harry and Ron immediately nodded.  "Yeah," said Ron.  "I can't wait to tell him about Snape!  He'll be fired by the morning at this rate!"  Ron looked so giddy about this that he was on the verge of skipping.  Harry kicked his shin and Ron grimaced, looking quickly to Hermione.  "No offense meant.  I still want to strangle the bloody git for smacking you."

Harry rolled his eyes.  Somehow he didn't think this comment would go over any better than the last had.  Hermione just nodded and they kept walking in silence.

*******

A/n:  Sorry for the odd place I stopped the chapter, but I had to cut it in half, and this was the best place I could find to stop it.  I figured you wouldn't mind, as long as it was an update.  :-)  I know Snape may seem out of character to people, and I do not want flames from Snape fans, because I'm delving more into this later.  That's all I'm saying, but I ask you not to flame me, or tell me he's OOC.  I know he is.  I'm making him that way on purpose.


	12. Destiny's Struggle 2

A/n:  Hey everyone!  Here's the second part Destiny's Struggle.  I'm having a horribly hard time with this story right now, it's just all stuck in my mind.  I have more written, though, so before we get to the place I'm stuck at, you won't have to wait for insanely long periods of time, providing I remember to update, as I have forgotten this story for a while.  Sorry!

A note:  I only put lyrics in every other chapter because when I originally wrote this, the two parts of the chapters were together.  For instance, the lyrics in part one of Destiny's Struggles are intended to go for both parts.  I'm not going to find lyrics to fit both halves.  It's senseless.

_Destiny's Struggle: 2_

When they reached Hagrid's front door, Fang's great, booming barks resounded deafeningly before they had even knocked.  They didn't bother knocking at all, as a moment later the door opened to reveal Hagrid towering over them, looking extremely angry, to their surprise.

"I'm tellin' yeh, I don' have any o' yer ruddy flobberworm bile—"  He stopped at the sight of them.  Going quite red in the face, he gave them a sheepish smile.  "Er—sorry 'bout that—c'min, c'min 

. . ."

The three wandered inside, all rather confused as Hagrid shut the door behind them.  He immediately pulled Harry and Ron into a bone-crushing hug.  For at least twenty seconds, Harry was certain that his bones were being reduced to dust by the force of Hagrid's arms.  When he was finally released, Hagrid gave them each—what he thought to be—jovial pats on the back that made them lose what little breath they'd managed to accumulate since they'd been released from his embrace.  "Great ter see yeh both!" he boomed, with a great, caring smile for them.

"You . . . you too, Hagrid," Harry managed to gasp.

Hagrid turned to Hermione and seemed to freeze.  Lacking a great deal of social skill, Hagrid didn't have any idea of what to say to her.  Hermione could sense this and smiled at him.  "Hello, Hagrid," she said.  Her voice was soft, but calm and serene.

"Hermione!  Welcome back!" he said, finding his voice at last.  He hugged her too, though he was extremely gentle with her, opposite of how he had unintentionally been with Harry and Ron.  The two boys shared a look and had to work hard to smother their laughter at this mutual thought.

He invited them all to sit down at his table and they took him up on this.  He bustled about the kitchen for a few minutes, getting down cups.  He gave them a sideways look.  "Is water okay?  Me kettle's broken."  They agreed, and a minute later, they were all sitting around the table, sipping lukewarm water out of slightly dusty ceramic cups with floral patterns.

"How have yeh all bin?" he asked once they were seated.  He looked to Harry.  "Yer summers?  I heard from Dumbledore that you and Hermione were at his sanctuary most of the time."  He grimaced.  "Bloody Muggles.  Unfortunate circumstances."

Hermione stiffened a bit at this.  "Not all Muggles are that way!" she replied a bit indignantly.  "My parents most certainly are not!"

Hagrid could sense he had made a mistake.  "I'm sorry, Hermione!  I didn' mean fer it ter sound that way.  O' course I know it's not all Muggles.  I didn' mean ter offend yeh."

"Oh, I know you didn't mean it," said Hermione, relaxing.  "I'm just a bit . . . worked up today.  I've grown somewhat defensive of Muggles since this whole war thing began."

"Tha's perfectly understandable.  So how have yeh all bin?" said Hagrid, resuming their conversation, but looking a bit subdued.  

"We're all fine," said Harry, glancing at Hermione out of the corner of his eye, somehow unsure that this included her.  She was staring at her cup in a depressed sort of way.  "Happy to be back."  He paused.  "So why were you yelling at us when we came to your door?"

Hagrid's expression visibly darkened.  "Oh, that.  I though' yeh mighta bin that insufferable git that yeh call a professor—Snape.  He was in here not five minutes ago buggin' me ter give him some flobberworm bile.  I told him over an' over that I didn' have any, but he just got more angry until he finally stormed out.  I considered settin' Fang on him, but thought better of it.  If he comes back, I can' say I won', though."

Harry and Ron's expressions visibly darkened at the mention of the Potion Master's name.  Hermione focused her eyes even more intently on her cup, but her expression was more thoughtful now than depressed.  Hagrid, looking between the three, could not miss the tension descending.

"What has he done now?" growled Hagrid.  For the first time, he seemed to take notice of the time of day.  "And shouldn' yeh be in Potions righ' now?  Shouldn' Snape, fer that matter?"

"Should be, yes," agreed Harry.  "And would be if he hadn't gone off and smacked Hermione round the face!"

Hagrid's eyes widened.  "He didn'!"

"Oh, don't you start," she warned Hagrid.  "I don't need _three_ bodyguards—I don't need one for that matter.  Stop acting so ruddy protective."

"I won' even say what I think o' him, then," muttered Hagrid.  He had gone quite red in a clear show of his anger.  "You three had better have told someone abou' this."

"McGonagall knows," Ron confirmed with a nod.  "She said she'll have him kicked out by tonight."

"As she should!"

"But what was Snape doing down here?" said Hermione quietly to herself.  She appeared to be thinking.  "He must have run down right after we left.  Right after we headed to McGonagall, anyway, because he didn't pass us in the hall.  And what is this sudden need for flobberworm bile?"

Harry considered this for the first time.  Hermione had a point.  He must have had a reason for running down here so promptly—something tied to what had occurred, Harry would suspect.  Just to eliminate the possibility, he said, "Perhaps the class needed it for the potion?"

Ron snorted into his cup of water, spraying the table and his face in specks of liquid.  "Right, Harry.  The man hauls off and strikes a student, knows that you intend to get him kicked out, and what does he do?  Jogs down to Hagrid to get some more flobberworm bile for his class."

Harry grinned, as he'd known that his statement was unlikely from before he'd voiced it.  Hermione, not catching Ron's humor, said, "No.  You don't need flobberworm bile for the Nigellus potion."

"Trust you to know the ingredients by heart," said Ron with a nod.  "So, since you're so well-versed in the uses of particular potion ingredients, how about telling us what is normally the function of flobberworm bile?"

"It's used for an assortment of things.  It could have been anything," said Hermione with a shrug.  "But I have no hesitation in saying it must be related to what happened with me."

"How did you say he reacted when you started mouthing off?" asked Harry.

"He got even more insane with anger.  It all happened so fast, it took a few seconds to register.  When I really became aware of his expression again . . ." she trailed off for a moment.

"Go on," urged Harry gently.

She lowered her eyes and began to stir the water in her cup with her index finger.  Her voice was nearly inaudible.  "His expression was very similar to that of Lucius Malfoy's . . . you know, when we were down in the Chamber.  I wasn't really aware of much after that until you came in."

Ron's face took on a sort of sad look.  Hagrid looked somewhere between angry and worried.  Harry took her hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  When she looked up at him, he gave her a very small smile.  She returned it, though the gesture was very weak.  She then returned to focusing her attention elsewhere.  Harry felt himself growing angry again. How dare Snape do this? Hermione was doing so much better lately, and now he'd managed to send her back into a depressed state again. 

"Where did he go after he left, Hagrid?" demanded Harry.  "Back to the castle?"

Hagrid shook his head.  "No.  He headed back in the direction of Hogsmeade."

"That prat!" snarled Ron.  "He's trying to run for it!"

"He wouldn't be that stupid," argued Harry.  "He'd know Dumbledore would find him—besides, he'd lose his position just the same.  It isn't like he's on the verge of getting arrested—just fired.  There's no reason for him to go on the run."

"None we know of," corrected Ron with a suspicious tone.

"Maybe he was still lookin' fer his flobberworm bile," muttered Hagrid bitterly.  "There's a place in Hogsmeade tha' sells refills o' potion ingredients.  Not as good as the Apothecary in Diagon Alley, but it's a decent substitute."

They all fell silent again for a few moments. It was Ron who finally broke the uncomfortable moments. "I never trusted that bloody git," he snarled. "Never could fully believe that he was really our ally. Guess I was right all along."

"But he helped Draco and I last year," argued Hermione. "Sort of. He covered for us when we escaped Malfoy Manor. And Dumbledore still trusts him. He did try to warn Dumbledore about the attack--but he didn't know about it until it was too late. That wasn't his fault." Again, her voice became quiet and muffled. "I was too much of an idiot to bother mentioning it in time."

Harry could feel his anger growing by the minute. This was what Snape had done. She hadn't started voicing vocal concerns over her supposed betrayal for over a month now. Instead of showing this anger, he pulled her close to him. Their chairs were close as it was, and Hermione leaned her head onto his shoulder. "You're not an idiot. It was not your fault," he whispered to her.

"Sure," she replied in a tone that said quite clearly the opposite.

"You can't trust the man. Who knows how often his loyalties change?" demanded Ron. While seeing his two friends in such a position would normally have been a perfect opportunity for him to torment them, he was not a fool. He knew this was far from the right time.

"I suppose," Hermione agreed softly.

"You three can head back up ter the castle if yeh like," suggested Hagrid after a moment. "Yeh don' have ter come ter me class today. I'll clear it with Professor McGonagall. She'll understand."

"No," said Hermione immediately, pulling away from Harry just a little so she was sitting straight. "We'll stay, Hagrid."

"If yer sure . . ." said Hagrid hesitantly.

"We are," said Harry, seconding what Hermione had begun. Ron nodded in agreement.

Hagrid gave them all a bright smile. "Wan' ter see the new critters? They're out back, now, c'mon. I'll give yeh all the firs' peek!" With that, he stood and began to head toward the back exit of his hut. 

Ron and Harry shared looks from across the table that said quite clearly their apprehension at seeing whatever Hagrid had now. Hermione, still extremely subdued, kept her eyes averted.

The three followed Hagrid after a moment's hesitation, Harry still holding Hermione's hand. Once outside, they saw a small paddock some distance beyond Hagrid's empty pumpkin patch. The wood railings surrounding it on all sides did not permit them to see what it contained from this distance. However, they could hear faint growling from inside and this did not encourage them.

Hagrid was already standing over by the paddock, looking down into it was a loving expression like one would direct at a puppy. This did nothing to reassure them, as Hagrid had been known to give such looks to vicious dragons, giant murderous spiders, and Blast-Ended Skrewts before. "Come on over, now, don' worry! Yeh'll love 'em!"

None of them made any move to come forward. "So," Ron said casually to Harry, "how much are you willing to pay on the odds that whatever is in there is worse than the Skrewts?"

Harry, remembering the giant, ferocious, armored slugs from two years before, shook his head fervently. "Nothing could be worse than the Skrewts.  Close, maybe, but not worse . . ."

"And on that cheery note . . ." said Ron, beginning to walk over toward the paddock. Harry and Hermione followed at a distance. Harry was walking slowly to keep with Hermione's pace, as she seemed completely uninterested in everything around her.

Harry and Hermione arrived a few moments after Ron. By the time they got to the paddock, Ron was already staring down into it with an expression of amazement. They both followed his lead, 

placing their hands on the wooden railing and leaning inward to see what it contained.

Inside, much to their surprise, were creatures about twice the size of an adult man's hand. They varied in color. Some were black, some white and some gold. They were all completely solid in color—one color covered their whole body. They looked almost like newborn kittens. They certainly had the same basic make-up--four legs, and long, swishy tail. Their heads were what set them apart from kittens the most. A small, roundish head with long ears that flopped downward like a rabbit's, reaching past their bottom jaw. Their eyes were, no matter their body color, a deep velvet purple. Their mouths and noses jutted outward in a muzzle that was inappropriate for their small size. Inside their mouths were rows of the sharp teeth of a carnivore. Their bodies were covered in long fur, so long that it dragged on the ground as they walked. But somehow, none of them looked the least bit dirty.

These animals didn't like one another very much. Many were fighting viciously with the others. Underneath all their hair, they had tiny paws with claws like a feline's, only much more dangerous looking. A few looked up at the three teenagers with curious expressions on their faces. Their eyes were so alert they seemed human in nature. 

"They're presagi!" exclaimed Hagrid. "Adorable aren' they?"

Ron was looking at Hagrid with a mixture of shock and horror. "Why'd you bring them here?" he asked in a rather strangled tone. "Even one presage is bad news. This many is lunacy!"

"Aw, come now, Ron," said Hagrid sternly. "Don' tell me yeh believe everythin' yeh read. Some people may not like 'em, but whether they saw 'em or not, didn' make any difference. It still would have happened, no matter what is said. They just warn yeh."

Ron shook his head in exasperation, opening his mouth as if to say something, then deciding against it.

"What?" asked Harry. He couldn't see what Ron was so opposed to in these little creatures. Odd looking though they were, they were sort of cute in an off-beat kind of way. Very cute in comparison to Hagrid's usual standard—they were positively adorable in comparison to the Skrewts.

"They're presagi," said Hagrid again. "Some people tend ter be superstitious abou' 'em."  He gave Ron a sideways glance as he said this.

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Presage means omen in French," explained Hermione, speaking up for the first time in quite a while. "It is common myth that a presage will tell you what you are destined for. There is one presage meant for each witch or wizard. They don't always find each other, but that's the way it is nonetheless. Each one symbolizes something different. Black is shadow or night, or danger and horror to come. Gold is sun or solar, which means you have a happy future. White is lunar, or moon, which means purity and success in the face of hardships—so basically a mixture of good and bad. People have been known to blame misfortune on the presagi before. People have even killed their presage because of it. It's awfully cruel. Ridiculous, really. Because if the myth is true, it was going to happen anyway—the presage didn't effect the outcome in any way. People just always want to have something other than themselves to blame for their problems, and sadly, the presagi are often times the object of their blame."

Hagrid beamed at her, but she was still too sullen to really acknowledge his reaction. "Well done, Hermione. I didn' think many people knew so much about these little guys. Good fer you."

Ron, on the other hand, rolled his eyes with a grimace at the presagi.  "Let's not give her reason to start another society to help '_misunderstood'_ creatures.  _Spew_ was bad enough."

Hermione glared daggers at him.  "It is S.P.E.W., Ron, for the last time, and what makes you think I've given up on the house elves?  I intend to start a new campaign soon—needless to say I wasn't able to last year, but I've not ended it.  I've just excluded you from the society because of your horrible attitude."

"Oh," said Ron brightly.  "Well, who said a bad attitude never yields good things?"

"So you're going to find a presage for each of the class?" asked Harry quickly, seeing Hermione's face contort in anger and attempting to cut her reply off before their argument could get anymore heated. 

Hagrid nodded. "Hopefully. A lot won't find their matches in this particular bundle, but we'll give 'em one anyway, jus' fer learnin' purposes." He glanced at his watch. "An' class is jus' abou' ter start, so I should head out. You three'll have ter wait with the rest o' the class ter pick out yours."

"Gladly," muttered Ron with a nervous look at the presagi. This reminded Harry of their third year when he was so terrified of the idea of the Grim. He supposed that Ron was more superstitious because he'd grown up in a wizard family.

They took their seats in their usual spots on the grass where Hagrid taught the class on nice days. They waited for everyone to arrive, and for Hagrid to once more explain about the presagi. Luckily, this class consisted of only Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and a few Ravenclaws. Harry doubted Hermione was up to dealing with the Slytherins in her current state. She was still quiet and didn't pay much attention to anything. She was slowly pulling up blades of grass in a distracted way. Of course, this was nothing too different from what many of his classmates were doing. Some distance away, out of Hagrid's sight, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had captured an earthworm and were quietly making it do odd things with their wands. Harry nudged Ron and pointed this out to him. Ron turned just in time to see the worm begin moving up and down in a dance routine that no creature without legs should ever have been able to do, while Seamus turned it turquoise. Ron snorted quietly and Harry grinned, but not even this abnormally hilarious sight could do anything to bring Hermione out of her silence.

Finally, Hagrid led the class to the paddock. Once Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had stopped shrieking their delight at the sight of the "cute, furry kitties," Hagrid told them all that one person at a time was to step into the paddock and wait for one of the presagi to choose them.

He went by alphabetical order. By the time he called Hermione, only three kids had actually gotten matched with a presagi. Those who had were now holding theirs on their laps. Lavender Brown was delighted to have gotten a golden one. Seamus had a black one, much to his dismay. The other Hufflepuff boy who'd found his match was playing with a black one himself, though he seemed completely unaffected by its color. 

Hermione stepped into the paddock with no real expression. She looked down at all the furry creatures scurrying about beneath her feet. None came close to her.

Hagrid sighed in disappointment. "All righ' then, Hermione, come on out--"

He stopped when he saw, out of nowhere, a presage smaller than all the rest step out and curl up at Hermione's feet in contentment. It was clearly unlike the others and not just in size. It had patches of all three colors all over it. Its left eye was surrounded by black and its right in gold. Below that, its muzzle was solid white. The rest of its body was a haphazard pattern of the three colors. Hermione knelt and picked it up, stunned at the appearance of it. She'd never read of one like this.  She absentmindedly stroked its soft, long fur and it closed its eyes happily.

She stepped back out, holding it securely in her hands, as it fit easily. It was still curled in a ball, making relaxed clicking noises and dozing lazily. She looked to Hagrid. All the class was silent at this odd sight. Even Seamus stopped griping miserably about his misfortune.

"She was the odd one," Hagrid mused. "Wasn' sure who would get her. I can' find anything anywhere abou' a multicolored one. It's a rare one, if not the only one of her kind. Sweetest of 'em all, though."

Hermione went over to sit by Harry and Ron. As soon as she had sat back down, the presage crawled from her hands and into Harry's lap. Harry looked down in surprise. So far, once a presage had been matched, it had adamantly refused to go to anyone else. Now it was his turn to look to Hagrid.

"Give it back ter Hermione," said Hagrid, appearing dumbfounded. 

Harry nodded and handed her the presage. It crawled from her hands and rubbed against the arm she was leaning back on in a loving feline fashion, then turned to do the same to Harry. Ron made a motion to pet it, and it slunk away, looking at him in uncertainty and suspicion. 

"It looks . . . it looks like she's bonded with the both o' yeh!" exclaimed Hagrid in confusion. "I never knew tha' was even possible."

When the presage curled up in between Harry and Hermione on the sun-warmed grass, appearing quite happy, the two looked up and caught one another's eyes.  Both were confused.  Harry was wondering if Hermione knew something about this that the rest of them did not, but she appeared just as lost as the rest of them.

"Okay, okay, back on track," called Hagrid, though he kept glancing at them from the corner of his eye.  "Next up . . ."

The time passed slowly.  Harry and Hermione said nothing about the strangeness of their presage.  They simply stroked it and were rewarded by its happy, soft clicks which Harry supposed were the presagi equivalent of purring.  Ron stayed as far away from it as possible.  By the time they reached Harry's name, Hagrid was convinced enough that this presage had bonded to the both of them that he skipped right over him.  

Finally, Ron was called.  He stepped into the paddock with worry.  Only six of the twenty students had found matches, counting Harry and Hermione.  He was praying he would not be one of the group that did.  He was not so lucky.  A few moments later, a pure white presage twined itself around Ron's legs.  He sighed and picked it up, looking at it in a mixture of apprehension and acceptance.  He shrugged as he got back out of the paddock.  "It's not black, at least, though I'd have preferred gold.  And it is kind of okay . . . I guess,"  he said begrudgingly, taking a seat beside his friends.

"If it makes yeh feel any better, Ron, on'y ten percent o' people get golden ones.  It's pretty rare," said Hagrid.  "How many people do yeh know who have nothin' but happy times ter come?"

"Yeah, but I could always hope," said Ron, looking at Harry with a grin.

Hagrid gave them all the last ten minutes of class to get used to their presagi, and took the kids that had not been matched up to the paddock to pick out animals so that they would not be excluded.  Seamus and Dean paired up to work together, though Seamus could still not look at his presage without an expression of loathing.  Hermione had noticed this by now and was glaring at him every so often, muttering things under her breath about how he shouldn't blame the presage for his future.  Neville had gotten a white one, like Ron.  Unlike Ron, however, he appeared completely at ease with the world for once since Harry had first met him.  

"Everyone's life entails good and bad things, Ron," he'd said calmly when Ron had begun griping again.  "We should just be happy that we don't have only bad times, right?"  

Ron allowed Parvati to pet his presage while Harry and Hermione studied theirs, which was still dozing.

"So, on a scale of one to ten, just how odd is all this?" asked Harry quietly.

"Nine," muttered Hermione grimly.  "I've never read anything about a multicolored presage, and I've read a lot on them.  They've fascinated me since I first discovered what they were in third year.  Never once has anything of this sort been mentioned.  Quite the contrary, in fact.  All the text says that they are always a solid color.  And only once before has a presage bonded to two people.  It was back in the fourteenth century, when people were particularly superstitious."

"What happened to the two it bonded to?" asked Harry, somewhat apprehensive of her answer.

"The presage was black.  They died two years later in an Auror battle."

Harry looked back down at his Presage.  It suddenly didn't seem so cute.  It seemed almost eerie.  He noticed grimly that the most prominent color was black.  He pointed this out to Hermione.

"I told you, I'm not superstitious," was all she said in response, but he could see her eyes flash in uncertainty.  "I suppose the blend of all colors means that all three await us.  Though I'd have assumed that a white presage would mean the same thing."

"Comforting," muttered Harry under his breath, quietly enough so that Hermione did not catch it.  "So you don't believe that these presagi are telling you what is to come in your life?"

Hermione shrugged.  "Not really.  I suppose that there are the handful of people that it has been true for.  That's the way it is in all cases.  Some will be right and some will be wrong.  But I don't bet my life on it, no.  Why?  Do you?"

"I don't really know enough to decide," said Harry, giving an answer that would satisfy her but did not necessarily reply to what she'd asked.

Any further conversation was halted by Hagrid calling for their attention.  They were instructed to put their presagi back in the paddock—"They'll find yeh again next class.  They're bonded ter yeh after all."— and head back up to the castle.

Hermione seemed less closed off through lunch, but it was apparent that she was still fatigued and she said little.  She didn't eat much, Harry observed during the meal.  He knew she still had the tendency to go off food when something was bothering her.  He glanced up at the High Table and was somewhat appeased to see that Snape's chair was conspicuously empty.  McGonagall was also gone, dealing with him, Harry supposed.

After lunch ended, Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed up the first five flights of stairs together.  Hermione left them on the fifth floor to head off to her Arithmancy class while Harry and Ron trudged up the next two flights of stairs to the trapdoor leading up to Professor Trelawny's tower room.

"Do we have to go, Harry?" groaned Ron, looking up at the trapdoor with distaste.  "Can't we just skive off?"

"Believe me, it's a tempting idea," agreed Harry.  "Probably not the best one, though.  I don't want detention my first day back.  That's one of the few things that could make this day worse."

"But isn't Divination a detention in itself?" demanded Ron as Harry pulled the string to lower the trapdoor.  "Why is it that we haven't dropped this class?"

"Because the only other options are Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Muggle Studies, none of which we want," said Harry, turning back to look at his friend.  

"At least we'd have Arithmancy with Hermione," he suggested hopefully.

"I've seen the stuff they do.  It's awful.  So's Ancient Runes.  And neither of us need Muggle Studies.  Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt you to take it, but I don't suppose you'd be particularly interested.  We wouldn't be with Hermione anyway, she's years ahead of us.  We'd start at basic level, with the third years."

Ron grimaced and began climbing the rope ladder.  "Well, when you put it that way . . .  We'd better start counting then, mate.  Only two more years of Divination to go."

"Yeah.  _Only_."

As usual, they found a table near the back and by a window.  Sinking low into a comfy armchair, Harry had to admit that the one perk to this class was the seating.  All the other classes were full of hard-backed chairs.  At least here it was easy to sleep.  _Too bad there aren't chairs like this in History of Magic.  Then we wouldn't all have to sleep with our heads on textbooks,_ he mused.

Trelawny was not yet visible, but Harry had no doubt that she would soon sweep in, in a manner to make herself look mysterious.  Glancing around himself, he realized that this year, he would be having this class with the Ravenclaws.  There were many other sixth years around him wearing blue and gold ties.

Sure enough, the moment class was scheduled to start, Professor Trelawny appeared.  She jumped in the trapdoor and turned to face them all.  "Welcome, sixth years!" she said softly, turning to face them.  "I will start off by saying that this year is all important.  This year is where your previous three years of training will all come together.  This year is the pivotal point!"

By this time, she'd managed to make Harry, Ron, and most the Gryffindor boys roll their eyes and had successfully captivated Parvati and Lavender.

"What's so great about this year?" asked a Ravenclaw girl from the table beside Harry and Ron.  

Trelawny turned to the girl and gave her a tight-lipped smile.  Harry got the impression that she didn't like this girl very much.  "This year is the center, Casey.  This year will separate the true from the false and the talented from the hopeless.  This year is when your futures will be beheld to you, if you can find them!"

"This year is when you learn that you need to vary sentence beginnings," Ron muttered, not bothering to keep his voice down.  Harry had a hard time fighting back a laugh and the Ravenclaw girl looked in over in what appeared to be approval.  Just about everyone in class reacted to this in some way, with exception of Trelawny herself.  She acted as though she had not heard him.

"Take out your books and open them to section seven.  We will be beginning with the reading of star glasses."

The class was dull, spent mostly reading from the textbook.  Finally, three-quarters of the way through, Trelawny instructed them all to put away their books, and announced that she would be handing out the star glasses.

She swooped around the room, a giant, glittering, caped insect that set star glasses in front of each of them.  Harry looked his over, remembering from the reading not to touch it.  It looked much like a regular drinking glass, only the crystal it was made of was much thicker than that of a drinking glass and was stained a misty light blue.  It was short and squat, not too deep at all.  Had it been a drinking glass, it would have been able to contain very little.  It was filled with about an inch of silvery water.

"Do you understand anything about this star glass stuff?" Harry muttered to Ron once he was sure Trelawny was out of hearing range.  

Ron raised an eyebrow at him.  "You think I actually _read_ the text?  What I ever do to make you think I follow directions in this class?" he asked.

Harry sighed, turning his attention back to the front of the room, where Trelawny was assuming her position.  He didn't care about this subject any more than Ron did, but he wanted to pass his O.W.L.s, so he felt a vague pull to work as hard as he could—for the next two weeks, at least. 

"Okay, according to the reading, who can tell me why the water in your star glasses has a silver tone to it?" asked Trelawny.

Lavender Brown's hand shot up in a fashion similar to Hermione.  This was the only class Harry could ever remember her speaking in willingly.  Trelawny called on her and she didn't hesitate to say—in a voice like Hermione's as well—"It's water that has been purified by a unicorn's horn."

"Correct.  Five points to Gryffindor.  Now, this water is extremely difficult to acquire, so do your best not to spill it.  There will be dire consequences should you do so.  Taking this into consideration, Mr. Longbottom, could you please scoot your chair away from the table, so as no unfortunate accidents occur?"  

Neville turned bright red with embarrassment and drew his face away from the star glass, which he'd been looking into.  He scooted his chair back from the table, looking depressed.

Trelawny went on.  "The next step is adding in the powder.  You all have some in the dishes on your tables.  Who can tell me what the powder is?   Mr. Weasley, how about you?"

Ron's eyes widened and he straightened in his chair.  His book was closed at his right elbow and he appeared trapped.  He reached forward and pinched some powder in between his fingers, raising it upward and letting it sift back down into the dish.  It was grayish in color and looked very fine in texture.  "Er . . . pixie dust?" he said, saying the first thing that popped into his mind.  He turned as red as Neville when a wave of sniggers crossed the room.

Trelawny sighed melodramatically.  "Not quite, Mr. Weasley.  Miss Clarimonde, what about you?  What is this dust?"

The Ravenclaw girl who had spoken out earlier tensed up, looking just as startled as Ron had.  Unlike Ron, she had an answer that she didn't hesitate to give.  "Phoenix ashes," she said.

"Yes.  Well done.  Take five points to Ravenclaw," said Trelawny.  "Now, for those of you who did not read the text I assigned," her eyes wandered in Ron's direction, "the reaction of these two rare substances is very powerful.  If you have the true inner eye, the moment the ashes hit the water, you will see into your own future."

"So . . . we'll see our entire lives flash before us like a movie?" asked Dean.

"No.  You will see a particular part of your future.  Something pivotal that the higher powers determine is necessary for you to see.  Only one thing.  Then, those of you who do not have any skill, will see nothing at all."

A tremendous crash came from the center of the room, cutting off any further words Trelawny had intended to speak.  Neville, who had been reaching for the ashes from his distanced seat, had toppled his chair forward on accident.  He sprawled forward onto the table where he, Dean, and Seamus were sitting, effectively knocking over all three star glasses and toppling the dish of ashes so that gray powder rose in a great cloud around their area.  Meanwhile, the legs of his chair had hit the underside of the table behind him, where two Ravenclaws had been sitting.  One of them managed to keep their star glass from tipping, but the other ended up tossing water into the air in the attempt, with the result that he himself and Lavender Brown ended up getting wet.  Lavender shrieked, and all those that were enveloped in the dust cloud were coughing, trying frantically to get out of the ash.  The rest of the class was snickering appreciatively.

"Some great Seer she is," Ron said, breathless from laughing, as he and Harry were lucky enough to be out of the immediate range of the dust.  "If she could actually tell the future, she'd have known that making Neville scoot away from the table would only make things worse.  Wouldn't it have just been easier to let Neville lost one glass, instead of four and a whole dish of ash?"

After several moments of crying out hysterically, Trelawny came to her senses enough to vanish the ash from the air, and put the tables in their right positions.  To say she looked angry would be an understatement.  He pointed at Neville.  "Mr. Longbottom, come up here!  Everyone who lost water or ashes, please come up for refills.  Everyone else, get to work!"

Apprehensively, the students who were not involved in Neville's catastrophe all took pinches of phoenix ashes and sprinkled them into the star glasses.  Harry saw his water turn glittery as the ashes hit the surface.  In that instant, upon contact, he felt a searing pain in his skull, and suddenly his eyes were attuned to nothing but the liquid.  He was no longer in class—he was somewhere else entirely.

It took him a moment to get his bearings.  It was somewhat like when he'd accidentally ventured into Dumbledore's pensieve, only much stranger.  It was clear to him almost immediately where he was—the clearing he'd discovered over the summer.  Only he wasn't there—he was just watching, from the very edge of the forest surrounding it.  It was as though only his eyes were there.  The rest of him was conspicuously missing.

Before his eyes, he saw a confusing sight:  A unicorn, lapping water from the pool.  Behind it, a cougar was slinking silently.  It's eyes were narrowed and cold—murderous, the eyes of a predator going in for the kill.  It stopped entirely five feet away and sank to a crouch, preparing to leap.  Harry wanted to yell out to the unicorn, but he could not.  He watched in horror as the cougar pounced.  The unicorn whinnied and reared, managing to buck the cougar off.  Before the unicorn could recover, the cougar swung a giant paw at its face.  The sheer force of the blow toppled the creature.  The cougar slashed its claws deep into the unicorn's side, staining its ivory fur silver.  It let out a triumphant roar which reverberated around the clearing, echoing menacingly and sending a flock of ebony birds with piercing golden eyes soaring up to the night sky in which they blended seamlessly.  

A moment later, Harry felt as though he were waking from a dream.  His eyes were already open, but it was as though they had not been, and he saw that he was back in the Divination classroom.  Nobody was paying too close of attention to him.  Many kids were still leaning over their glasses, their eyes transfixed in a trance-like state, unblinking.  Some were muttering in annoyance at their glasses.  It took Harry a moment to realize what had happened.  The whole scene had been no more than a vision.  Something the mixture of the substances had brought about.

A vision from the future.  A vision that was going to happen.

He felt a dull throbbing in his temples.  How could the slaying of a unicorn by a cougar in his parents' clearing have a pivotal effect on his life to come?  

For the first time, he became aware of Ron calling his name.  He looked over at his friend who was looking at him in worry.  "You okay?" he demanded, once he finally had Harry's attention.

Harry nodded.  "Yeah.  Fine," he muttered distractedly.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Ron commented.  "What did you see in your glass?  I didn't get a reaction from mine."

For some reason, Harry was hesitant to state what he'd seen.  He wasn't sure what it was that made him hold back, but he ended up shaking his head in as a response.  "I don't know how I saw anything," he said, more in an effort to change the subject than anything else.  "It's not like I've ever been a Seer.  I've never seen anything before.  Not really."

"What is it that you saw?" demanded Ron, not to be deterred.

Harry bit his lip.  "I'm not sure, exactly."

He was saved from Ron's reply by Professor Trelawny's delighted call from the front of the classroom.  "Oh, wonderful!  Most of you have managed to see in your star glasses!  We're already ten minutes past this class's designated end, so for homework, if you saw something in your star glass, write at least one foot of parchment on what it was and why you think you saw it.  If you saw nothing, write the same length on why you think you did _not_ see anything.  Due Thursday.  Class dismissed!"

Ron and Harry were silent as they made their way down the rope ladder and into the halls, which were pretty empty.  This section of the seventh floor was usually deserted, and while they could hear and see some students way off, there were not many.  Aside from Trelawny's class, and the Astrology class which took place late at night, there were no classes held on this floor.

Hermione was waiting for them when they got down.  "What kept you?" she asked when they reached her.

"Trelawny forgot how to tell time.  If she ever knew in the first place," said Ron with a grimace skyward.  He turned to Harry.  "So what did you see?"

Harry had to fight hard to keep a groan at bay.  He hadn't wanted to bring it up with Ron, and definitely not with Hermione.  Not today.  She had enough on her mind as it was.  "I told you, I'm not sure what it was."

"No, you're not sure what it meant," corrected Ron.  "You forget—I know you well enough to tell when you're lying.  But if you don't want to share, that's fine.  Just tell me and I'll back off."

"I don't want to talk about it," said Harry.  "I'd rather figure out what it means before I say anything."

"Is it something bad, do you think?" asked Ron hesitantly.  Harry could see his eyes look quickly at Hermione.

Harry shrugged.  "I honestly don't know.  I don't understand it at all."

"What are you two on about?" demanded Hermione.  

"Star glasses," said Ron.  "You drop phoenix ashes—"

"—Into water purified by a unicorn and supposedly you see a pivotal moment in your future," Hermione finished in a bored tone.  Seeing Ron's startled expression, she rolled her eyes.  "Just because I think it's a terribly useless branch of magic doesn't mean I don't understand it.  Star glasses are said to be one of the more reliable types of Divination, but I still think it's all rubbish.  So Harry saw something he doesn't want to talk about and you saw . . ."  She left the sentence hanging, waiting for him to finish it.

"Nothing," said Ron.  "Just water and phoenix ashes."

Hermione looked to Harry.  She gave him a small smile.  Harry could sense that she was much more at ease then when they'd parted an hour before.  He knew from experience how Arithmancy tended to calm Hermione's nerves.  He never understood how, though—he knew that Arithmancy would only sink him into a fouler temper.  "Whatever you saw, don't worry.  I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation.  I personally think that when the two substances blend, it effects certain people's minds temporarily.  You see things, and people like Trelawny claim that it's the future.  Really, it's just visions that the chemical compounds form when mixed.  Certain people's brains are made up in a specific way that lets it effect them—like yours.  Ron's brain wasn't effected because the magic from the combination doesn't cause a reaction for him.  I've seen it in scientific studies.  It looks quite reasonable to me, though it does contradict all the books on natural magic that I've read, so I'm not sure which is true, but it doesn't matter.  It's nothing to bother about."

Harry nodded, feeling that Hermione's answer was logical.  Still, though, something nagged at him.  He knew that while he could shelve the vision, put it away in some distant corner of his mind and write it off as no more than a magical reaction to a chemical compound, he wouldn't forget it entirely.


End file.
